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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY, 
Boston  and  New  York. 


THE  COUNTRY 
OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS 
BY  SARAH  ORNE 
JEWETT 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

(£be  iftiberjeiide  pre$j&  Cambridge 

MDCCCXCVI 


Copyright,  1896, 

By  SARAH  ORNE  JEWETT. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press , Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  & Co. 


TO 

ALICE  GREENWOOD  HOWE 


i 


CONTENTS, 


PAGE 


I. 

The  Return  

1 

II. 

Mrs.  Todd 

3 

III. 

The  Schoolhouse  .... 

. 11 

IV. 

At  the  Schoolhouse  Window  . 

15 

V. 

Captain  Littlepage 

. 20 

VI. 

The  Waiting  Place  . 

31 

VII. 

The  Outer  Island 

. 42 

VIII. 

Green  Island  .... 

48 

IX. 

William 

. 66 

X. 

Where  Pennyroyal  grew 

72 

XI. 

The  Old  Singers  .... 

. 80 

XII. 

A Strange  Sail  .... 

86 

XIII. 

Poor  Joanna 

. 98 

XIV. 

The  Hermitage  .... 

115 

XV. 

On  Shell-heap  Island  . 

. 127 

XVI. 

The  Great  Expedition 

134 

XVII. 

A Country  Road  .... 

. 144 

XVIII. 

The  Bowden  Reunion 

156 

XIX. 

The  Feast’s  End  .... 

. 175 

XX. 

Along  Shore  .... 

184 

XXI. 

The  Backward  View  . 

. 207 

THE  COUNTRY  OF  THE 
POINTED  FIRS. 


I. 


THE  RETURN. 

There  was  something  about  the  coast 
town  of  Dunnet  which  made  it  seem  more 
attractive  than  other  maritime  villages  of 
eastern  Maine.  Perhaps  it  was  the  simple 
fact  of  acquaintance  with  that  neighbor- 
hood which  made  it  so  attaching,  and  gave 
such  interest  to  the  rocky  shore  and  dark 
woods,  and  the  few  houses  which  seemed  to 
be  securely  wedged  and  tree-nailed  in  among 
the  ledges  by  the  Landing.  These  houses 
made  the  most  of  their  seaward  view,  and 
there  was  a gayety  and  determined  flower- 
iness in  their  bits  of  garden  ground;  the 
small-paned  high  windows  in  the  peaks  of 
their  steep  gables  were  like  knowing  eyes 
that  watched  the  harbor  and  the  far  sea-line 
beyond,  or  looked  northward  all  along  the 


2 COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

shore  and  its  background  of  spruces  and 
balsam  firs.  When  one  really  knows  a vil- 
lage like  this  and  its  surroundings,  it  is  like 
becoming  acquainted  with  a single  person. 
The  process  of  falling  in  love  at  first  sight 
is  as  final  as  it  is  swift  in  such  a case,  but 
the  growth  of  true  friendship  may  be  a life- 
long affair. 

After  a first  brief  visit  made  two  or  three 
summers  before  in  the  course  of  a yachting 
cruise,  a lover  of  Dunnet  Landing  returned 
to  find  the  unchanged  shores  of  the  pointed 
firs,  the  same  quaintness  of  the  village  with 
its  elaborate  conventionalities ; all  that  mix- 
ture of  remoteness,  and  childish  certainty  of 
being  the  centre  of  civilization  of  which  her 
affectionate  dreams  had  told.  One  even- 
ing in  June,  a single  passenger  landed  upon 
the  steamboat  wharf.  The  tide  was  high, 
there  was  a fine  crowd  of  spectators,  and 
the  younger  portion  of  the  company  followed 
her  with  subdued  excitement  up  the  narrow 
street  of  the  salt-aired,  white-clapboarded 
little  town. 


MRS.  TODD. 


Later,  there  was  only  one  fault  to  find 
with  this  choice  of  a summer  lodging-place, 
and  that  was  its  complete  lack  of  seclusion. 
At  first  the  tiny  house  of  Mrs.  Almira  Todd, 
which  stood  with  its  end  to  the  street,  ap- 
peared to  be  retired  and  sheltered  enough 
from  the  busy  world,  behind  its  bushy  bit 
of  a green  garden,  in  which  all  the  bloom- 
ing things,  two  or  three  gay  hollyhocks 
and  some  London-pride,  were  pushed  back 
against  the  gray-shingled  wall.  It  was 
a queer  little  garden  and  puzzling  to  a 
stranger,  the  few  flowers  being  put  at  a dis- 
advantage by  so  much  greenery;  but  the 
discovery  was  soon  made  that  Mrs.  Todd 
was  an  ardent  lover  of  herbs,  both  wild  and 
tame,  and  the  sea-breezes  blew  into  the 
low  end-window  of  the  house  laden  with  not 
only  sweet-brier  and  sweet-mary,  but  balm 
and  sage  and  borage  and  mint,  wormwood 


4 COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

and  southernwood.  If  Mrs.  Todd  had  oc- 
casion to  step  into  the  far  corner  of  her 
herb  plot,  she  trod  heavily  upon  thyme,  and 
made  its  fragrant  presence  known  with  all 
the  rest.  Being  a very  large  person,  her 
full  skirts  brushed  and  bent  almost  every 
slender  stalk  that  her  feet  missed.  You 
could  always  tell  when  she  was  stepping 
about  there,  even  when  you  were  half  awake 
in  the  morning,  and  learned  to  know,  in  the 
course  of  a few  weeks’  experience,  in  ex- 
actly which  corner  of  the  garden  she  might 
be. 

At  one  side  of  this  herb  plot  were  other 
growths  of  a rustic  pharmacopoeia,  great 
treasures  and  rarities  among  the  commoner 
herbs.  There  were  some  strange  and  pun- 
gent odors  that  roused  a dim  sense  and  re- 
membrance of  something  in  the  forgotten 
past.  Some  of  these  might  once  have  be- 
longed to  sacred  and  mystic  rites,  and  have 
had  some  occult  knowledge  handed  with 
them  down  the  centuries  ; but  now  they  per- 
tained only  to  humble  compounds  brewed  at 
intervals  with  molasses  or  vinegar  or  spirits 
in  a small  caldron  on  Mrs.  Todd’s  kitchen 
stove.  They  were  dispensed  to  suffering 
neighbors,  who  usually  came  at  night  as  if 


MRS.  TODD. 


5 


by  stealth,  bringing  their  own  ancient-look- 
ing vials  to  be  filled.  One  nostrum  was 
called  the  Indian  remedy,  and  its  price  was 
but  fifteen  cents  ; the  whispered  directions 
could  be  heard  as  customers  passed  the  win- 
dows. With  most  remedies  the  purchaser 
was  allowed  to  depart  unadmonished  from 
the  kitchen,  Mrs.  Todd  being  a wise  saver 
of  steps  ; but  with  certain  vials  she  gave 
cautions,  standing  in  the  doorway,  and  there 
were  other  doses  which  had  to  be  accom- 
panied on  their  healing  way  as  far  as  the 
gate,  while  she  muttered  long  chapters  of 
directions,  and  kept  up  an  air  of  secrecy 
and  importance  to  the  last.  It  may  not  have 
been  only  the  common  ails  of  humanity 
with  which  she  tried  to  cope ; it  seemed 
sometimes  as  if  love  and  hate  and  jealousy 
and  adverse  winds  at  sea  might  also  find 
their  proper  remedies  among  the  curious 
wild-looking  plants  in  Mrs.  Todd’s  garden. 

The  village  doctor  and  this  learned  herb- 
alist were  upon  the  best  of  terms.  The 
good  man  may  have  counted  upon  the  un- 
favorable effect  of  certain  potions  which  he 
should  find  his  opportunity  in  counteract- 
ing ; at  any  rate,  he  now  and  then  stopped 
and  exchanged  greetings  with  Mrs.  Todd 


6 COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

over  the  picket  fence.  The  conversation 
became  at  once  professional  after  the  brief- 
est preliminaries,  and  he  would  stand  twirl- 
ing a sweet-scented  sprig  in  his  fingers,  and 
make  suggestive  jokes,  perhaps  about  her 
faith  in  a too  persistent  course  of  thorough- 
wort  elixir,  in  which  my  landlady  professed 
such  firm  belief  as  sometimes  to  endanger 
the  life  and  usefulness  of  worthy  neighbors. 

To  arrive  at  this  quietest  of  seaside  vil- 
lages late  in  June,  when  the  busy  herb- 
gathering season  was  just  beginning,  was 
also  to  arrive  in  the  early  prime  of  Mrs. 
Todd’s  activity  in  the  brewing  of  old-fash- 
ioned spruce  beer.  This  cooling  and  re- 
freshing drink  had  been  brought  to  won- 
derful perfection  through  a long  series  of 
experiments ; it  had  won  immense  local 
fame,  and  the  supplies  for  its  manufacture 
were  always  giving  out  and  having  to  be 
replenished.  For  various  reasons,  the  se- 
clusion and  uninterrupted  days  which  had 
been  looked  forward  to  proved  to  be  very 
rare  in  this  otherwise  delightful  corner  of 
the  world.  My  hostess  and  I had  made  our 
shrewd  business  agreement  on  the  basis  of  a 
simple  cold  luncheon  at  noon,  and  liberal 
restitution  in  the  matter  of  hot  suppers,  to 


MRS.  TODD. 


7 


provide  for  which  the  lodger  might  some- 
times be  seen  hurrying  down  the  road,  late 
in  the  day,  with  cunner  line  in  hand.  It 
wras  soon  found  that  this  arrangement  made 
large  allowance  for  Mrs.  Todd’s  slow  herb- 
gathering progresses  through  woods  and 
pastures.  The  spruce-beer  customers  were 
pretty  steady  in  hot  weather,  and  there  were 
many  demands  for  different  soothing  syrups 
and  elixirs  with  which  the  unwise  curios- 
ity of  my  early  residence  had  made  me 
acquainted.  Knowing  Mrs.  Todd  to  be  a 
widow,  who  had  little  beside  this  slender 
business  and  the  income  from  one  hungry 
lodger  to  maintain  her,  one’s  energies  and 
even  interest  were  quickly  bestowed,  until  it 
became  a matter  of  course  that  she  should 
go  afield  every  pleasant  day,  and  that  the 
lodger  should  answer  all  peremptory  knocks 
at  the  side  door. 

In  taking  an  occasional  wisdom-giving 
stroll  in  Mrs.  Todd’s  company,  and  in  act- 
ing as  business  partner  during  her  frequent 
absences,  I found  the  July  days  fly  fast,  and 
it  was  not  until  I felt  myself  confronted 
with  too  great  pride  and  pleasure  in  the  dis- 
play, one  night,  of  two  dollars  and  twenty- 
seven  cents  which  I had  taken  in  during 


8 COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

the  day,  that  I remembered  a long  piece 
of  writing,  sadly  belated  now,  which  I was 
bound  to  do.  To  have  been  patted  kindly 
on  the  shoulder  and  called  “darlin’,”  to 
have  been  offered  a surprise  of  early  mush- 
rooms for  supper,  to  have  had  all  the  glory 
of  making  two  dollars  and  twenty -seven 
cents  in  a single  day,  and  then  to  renounce 
it  all  and  withdraw  from  these  pleasant  suc- 
cesses, needed  much  resolution.  Literary 
employments  are  so  vexed  with  uncertain- 
ties at  best,  and  it  was  not  until  the  voice  of 
conscience  sounded  louder  in  my  ears  than 
the  sea  on  the  nearest  pebble  beach  that  I 
said  unkind  words  of  withdrawal  to  Mrs, 
Todd.  She  only  became  more  wistfully  af- 
fectionate than  ever  in  her  expressions,  and 
looked  as  disappointed  as  I expected  when  I 
frankly  told  her  that  I could  no  longer  en- 
joy the  pleasure  of  what  we  called  “ seein’ 
folks.’’  I felt  that  I was  cruel  to  a whole 
neighborhood  in  curtailing  her  liberty  in 
this  most  important  season  for  harvesting 
the  different  wild  herbs  that  were  so  much 
counted  upon  to  ease  their  winter  ails. 

“ Well,  dear,”  she  said  sorrowfully,  “ I ’ve 
took  great  advantage  o’  your  bein’  here.  I 
ain’t  had  such  a season  for  years,  but  I have 


MRS.  TODD . 


9 


never  had  nobody  I could  so  trust.  All  you 
lack  is  a few  qualities,  but  with  time  you ’d 
gain  judgment  an’  experience,  an’  be  very 
able  in  the  business.  I ’d  stand  right  here 
an’  say  it  to  anybody.” 

Mrs.  Todd  and  I were  not  separated  or 
estranged  by  the  change  in  our  business  re- 
lations ; on  the  contrary,  a deeper  intimacy 
seemed  to  begin.  I do  not  know  what  herb 
of  the  night  it  was  that  used  sometimes  to 
send  out  a penetrating  odor  late  in  the  even- 
ing, after  the  dew  had  fallen,  and  the  moon 
was  high,  and  the  cool  air  came  up  from 
the  sea.  Then  Mrs.  Todd  would  feel  that 
she  must  talk  to  somebody,  and  I was  only 
too  glad  to  listen.  We  both  fell  under  the 
spell,  and  she  either  stood  outside  the  win- 
dow, or  made  an  errand  to  my  sitting-room, 
and  told,  it  might  be  very  commonplace 
news  of  the  day,  or,  as  happened  one  misty 
summer  night,  all  that  lay  deepest  in  her 
heart.  It  was  in  this  way  that  I came  to 
know  that  she  had  loved  one  who  was  far 
above  her. 

“ No,  dear,  him  I speak  of  could  never 
think  of  me,”  she  said.  “ When  we  was 
young  together  his  mother  did  n’t  favor  the 


10  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

match,  an’  done  everything  she  could  to  part 
us ; and  folks  thought  we  both  married 
well,  but  ’t  wa’n’t  what  either  one  of  us 
wanted  most ; an’  now  we  ’re  left  alone 
again,  an’  might  have  had  each  other  all  the 
time.  He  was  above  bein’  a seafarin’  man, 
an’  prospered  more  than  most ; he  come  of 
a high  family,  an’  my  lot  was  plain  an’  hard- 
workin’.  I ain’t  seen  him  for  some  years ; 
he ’s  forgot  our  youthful  feelin’s,  I expect, 
but  a woman’s  heart  is  different ; them  feel- 
in’s comes  back  when  you  think  you’ve  done 
with  ’em,  as  sure  as  spring  comes  with  the 
year.  An’  I ’ve  always  had  ways  of  hearin’ 
about  him.” 

She  stood  in  the  centre  of  a braided  rug, 
and  its  rings  of  black  and  gray  seemed  to 
circle  about  her  feet  in  the  dim  light.  Her 
height  and  massiveness  in  the  low  room  gave 
her  the  look  of  a huge  sibyl,  while  the 
strange  fragrance  of  the  mysterious  herb 
blew  in  from  the  little  garden. 


THE  SCHOOLHOUSE. 


For  some  days  after  this,  Mrs.  Todd’s 
customers  came  and  went  past  my  windows, 
and,  haying-time  being  nearly  over,  strangers 
began  to  arrive  from  the  inland  country, 
such  was  her  widespread  reputation.  Some- 
times I saw  a pale  young  creature  like  a 
white  windflower  left  over  into  midsummer, 
upon  whose  face  consumption  had  set  its 
bright  and  wistful  mark  ; but  oftener  two 
stout,  hard-worked  women  from  the  farms 
came  together,  and  detailed  their  symptoms 
to  Mrs.  Todd  in  loud  and  cheerful  voices, 
combining  the  satisfactions  of  a friendly 
gossip  with  the  medical  opportunity.  They 
seemed  to  give  much  from  their  own  store 
of  therapeutic  learning.  I became  aware 
of  the  school  in  which  my  landlady  had 
strengthened  her  natural  gift ; but  hers  was 
always  the  governing  mind,  and  the  final 
command,  “Take  of  hy’sop  one  handful” 


12  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

(or  whatever  herb  it  was),  was  received  in 
respectful  silence.  One  afternoon,  when  I 
had  listened,  — it  was  impossible  not  to  lis- 
ten, with  cottonless  ears,  — and  then  laughed 
and  listened  again,  with  an  idle  pen  in  my 
hand,  during  a particularly  spirited  and 
personal  conversation,  I reached  for  my  hat, 
and,  taking  blotting-book  and  all  under  my 
arm,  I resolutely  fled  further  temptation, 
and  walked  out  past  the  fragrant  green  gar- 
den and  up  the  dusty  road.  The  way  went 
straight  uphill,  and  presently  I stopped  and 
turned  to  look  back. 

The  tide  was  in,  the  wide  harbor  was  sur- 
rounded by  its  dark  woods,  and  the  small 
wooden  houses  stood  as  near  as  they  could 
get  to  the  landing.  Mrs.  Todd’s  was  the 
last  house  on  the  way  inland.  The  gray 
ledges  of  the  rocky  shore  were  well  covered 
with  sod  in  most  places,  and  the  pasture 
bayberry  and  wild  roses  grew  thick  among 
them.  I could  see  the  higher  inland  country 
and  the  scattered  farms.  On  the  brink  of 
the  hill  stood  a little  white  schoolhouse, 
much  wind-blown  and  weather-beaten,  which 
was  a landmark  to  seagoing  folk ; from  its 
door  there  was  a most  beautiful  view  of  sea 
and  shore.  The  summer  vacation  now  pre- 


THE  SCHOOLHOUSE. 


13 


vailed,  and  after  finding  the  door  unfastened, 
and  taking  a long  look  through  one  of  the 
seaward  windows,  and  reflecting  afterward 
for  some  time  in  a shady  place  near  by 
among  the  bayberry  bushes,  I returned  to 
the  chief  place  of  business  in  the  village, 
and,  to  the  amusement  of  two  of  the  select- 
men, brothers  and  autocrats  of  Dunnet 
Landing,  I hired  the  schoolhouse  for  the 
rest  of  the  vacation  for  fifty  cents  a week. 

Selfish  as  it  may  appear,  the  retired  situ- 
ation seemed  to  possess  great  advantages, 
and  I spent  many  days  there  quite  undis- 
turbed, with  the  sea-breeze  blowing  through 
the  small,  high  windows  and  swaying  the 
heavy  outside  shutters  to  and  fro.  I hung 
my  hat  and  luncheon-basket  on  an  entry 
nail  as  if  I were  a small  scholar,  but  I sat 
at  the  teacher’s  desk  as  if  I were  that  great 
authority,  with  all  the  timid  empty  benches 
in  rows  before  me.  Now  and  then  an  idle 
sheep  came  and  stood  for  a long  time  look- 
ing in  at  the  door.  At  sundown  I went 
back,  feeling  most  businesslike,  down  toward 
the  village  again,  and  usually  met  the  flavor, 
not  of  the  herb  garden,  but  of  Mrs.  Todd’s 
hot  supper,  halfway  up  the  hill.  On  the 
nights  when  there  were  evening  meetings  or 


14  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

other  public  exercises  that  demanded  her 
presence  we  had  tea  very  early,  and  I was 
welcomed  back  as  if  from  a long  absence. 

Once  or  twice  I feigned  excuses  for  stay- 
ing at  home,  while  Mrs.  Todd  made  distant 
excursions,  and  came  home  late,  with  both 
hands  full  and  a heavily  laden  apron.  This 
was  in  pennyroyal  time,  and  when  the  rare 
lobelia  was  in  its  prime  and  the  elecampane 
was  coming  on.  One  day  she  appeared  at 
the  schoolhouse  itself,  partly  out  of  amused 
curiosity  about  my  industries ; but  she  ex- 
plained that  there  was  no  tansy  in  the  neigh- 
borhood with  such  snap  to  it  as  some  that 
grew  about  the  schoolhouse  lot.  Being 
scuffed  down  all  the  spring  made  it  grow  so 
much  the  better,  like  some  folks  that  had  it 
hard  in  their  youth,  and  were  bound  to  make 
the  most  of  themselves  before  they  died. 


AT  THE  SCHOOLHOUSE  WINDOW, 


One  day  I reached  the  schoolhouse  very 
late,  owing  to  attendance  upon  the  funeral 
of  an  acquaintance  and  neighbor,  with  whose 
sad  decline  in  health  I had  been  familiar, 
and  whose  last  days  both  the  doctor  and 
Mrs.  Todd  had  tried  in  vain  to  ease.  The 
services  had  taken  place  at  one  o’clock,  and 
now,  at  quarter  past  two,  I stood  at  the 
schoolhouse  window,  looking  down  at  the 
procession  as  it  went  along  the  lower  road 
close  to  the  shore.  It  was  a walking  funeral, 
and  even  at  that  distance  I could  recognize 
most  of  the  mourners  as  they  went  their  sol- 
emn way.  Mrs.  Begg  had  been  very  much 
respected,  and  there  was  a large  company 
of  friends  following  to  her  grave.  She  had 
been  brought  up  on  one  of  the  neighboring 
farms,  and  each  of  the  few  times  that  I had 
seen  her  she  professed  great  dissatisfaction 
with  town  life.  The  people  lived  too  close 


16  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

together  for  her  liking,  at  the  Landing,  and 
she  could  not  get  used  to  the  constant  sound 
of  the  sea.  She  had  lived  to  lament  three 
seafaring  husbands,  and  her  house  was  dec- 
orated with  West  Indian  curiosities,  speci- 
mens of  conch  shells  and  fine  coral  which 
they  had  brought  home  from  their  voyages 
in  lumber-laden  ships.  Mrs.  Todd  had  told 
me  all  our  neighbor’s  history.  They  had 
been  girls  together,  and,  to  use  her  own 
phrase,  had  “ both  seen  trouble  till  they 
knew  the  best  and  worst  on ’t.”  I could 
see  the  sorrowful,  large  figure  of  Mrs.  Todd 
as  I stood  at  the  window.  She  made  a break 
in  the  procession  by  walking  slowly  and 
keeping  the  after-part  of  it  back.  She  held 
a handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  I knew, 
with  a pang  of  sympathy,  that  hers  was  not 
affected  grief. 

Beside  her,  after  much  difficulty,  I recog- 
nized the  one  strange  and  unrelated  person 
in  all  the  company,  an  old  man  who  had 
always  been  mysterious  to  me.  I could  see 
his  thin,  bending  figure.  He  wore  a narrow, 
long-tailed  coat  and  walked  with  a stick,  and 
had  the  same  “ cant  to  leeward  ” as  the 
wind-bent  trees  on  the  height  above. 

This  was  Captain  Littlepage,  whom  I had 


AT  THE  SCHOOLHOUSE  WINDOW.  17 

seen  only  once  or  twice  before,  sitting  pale 
and  old  behind  a closed  window ; never  out 
of  doors  until  now.  Mrs.  Todd  always 
shook  her  head  gravely  when  I asked  a ques- 
tion, and  said  that  he  was  n’t  what  he  had 
been  once,  and  seemed  to  class  him  with 
her  other  seerets.  He  might  have  belonged 
with  a simple  which  grew  in  a certain  slug- 
haunted  corner  of  the  garden,  whose  use 
she  could  never  be  betrayed  into  telling  me, 
though  I saw  her  cutting  the  tops  by  moon- 
light once,  as  if  it  were  a charm,  and  not  a 
medicine,  like  the  great  fading  bloodroot 
leaves. 

I could  see  that  she  was  trying  to  keep 
pace  with  the  old  captain’s  lighter  steps. 
He  looked  like  an  aged  grasshopper  of  some 
strange  human  variety.  Behind  this  pair 
was  a short,  impatient,  little  person,  who 
kept  the  captain’s  house,  and  gave  it  what 
Mrs.  Todd  and  others  believed  to  be  no 
proper  sort  of  care.  She  was  usually  called 
64  that  Mari’  Harris  ” in  subdued  conversa- 
tion between  intimates,  but  they  treated  her 
with  anxious  civility  when  they  met  her  face 
to  face. 

The  bay-sheltered  islands  and  the  great 
sea  beyond  stretched  away  to  the  far  horizon 


18  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

southward  and  eastward;  the  little  proces- 
sion in  the  foreground  looked  futile  and 
helpless  on  the  edge  of  the  rocky  shore.  It 
was  a glorious  day  early  in  July,  with  a clear, 
high  sky ; there  were  no  clouds,  there  was 
no  noise  of  the  sea.  The  song  sparrows 
sang  and  sang,  as  if  with  joyous  knowledge 
of  immortality,  and  contempt  for  those  who 
could  so  pettily  concern  themselves  with 
death.  I stood  watching  until  the  funeral 
procession  had  crept  round  a shoulder  of  the 
slope  below  and  disappeared  from  the  great 
landscape  as  if  it  had  gone  into  a cave. 

An  hour  later  I was  busy  at  my  work. 
Now  and  then  a bee  blundered  in  and  took 
me  for  an  enemy;  but  there  was  a useful 
stick  upon  the  teacher’s  desk,  and  I rapped 
to  call  the  bees  to  order  as  if  they  were 
unruly  scholars,  or  waved  them  away  from 
their  riots  over  the  ink,  which  I had  bought 
at  the  Landing  store,  and  discovered  too 
late  to  be  scented  with  bergamot,  as  if  to 
refresh  the  labors  of  anxious  scribes.  One 
anxious  scribe  felt  very  dull  that  day;  a 
sheep-bell  tinkled  near  by,  and  called  her 
wandering  wits  after  it.  The  sentences 
failed  to  catch  these  lovely  summer  cadences. 
For  the  first  time  I began  to  wish  for  a com- 


AT  THE  SCHOOLHOUSE  WINDOW.  19 

panion  and  for  news  from  the  outer  world, 
which  had  been,  half  unconsciously,  forgot- 
ten. Watching  the  funeral  gave  one  a sort 
of  pain.  I began  to  wonder  if  I ought  not 
to  have  walked  with  the  rest,  instead  of  hur- 
rying away  at  the  end  of  the  services.  Per- 
haps the  Sunday  gown  I had  put  on  for  the 
occasion  was  making  this  disastrous  change 
of  feeling,  but  I had  now  made  myself  and 
my  friends  remember  that  I did  not  really 
belong  to  Dunnet  Landing. 

I sighed,  and  turned  to  the  half-written 
page  again. 


V. 


CAPTAIN  LITTLEPAGE. 

It  was  a long  time  after  this;  an  hour 
was  very  long  in  that  coast  town  where  no- 
thing stole  away  the  shortest  minute.  I had 
lost  myself  completely  in  work,  when  I heard 
footsteps  outside.  There  was  a steep  foot- 
path between  the  upper  and  the  lower  road, 
which  I climbed  to  shorten  the  way,  as  the 
children  had  taught  me,  but  I believed  that 
Mrs.  Todd  would  find  it  inaccessible,  unless 
she  had  occasion  to  seek  me  in  great  haste. 
I wrote  on,  feeling  like  a besieged  miser  of 
time,  while  the  footsteps  came  nearer,  and 
the  sheep-bell  tinkled  away  in  haste  as  if 
some  one  had  shaken  a stick  in  its  wearer’s 
face.  Then  I looked,  and  saw  Captain  Lit- 
tlepage  passing  the  nearest  window ; the 
next  moment  he  tapped  politely  at  the  door. 

“ Come  in,  sir,”  I said,  rising  to  meet 
him  ; and  he  entered,  bowing  with  much 
courtesy.  I stepped  down  from  the  desk 


CAPTAIN  LITTLEPAGE . 


21 


and  offered  him  a chair  by  the  window, 
where  he  seated  himself  at  once,  being 
sadly  spent  by  his  climb.  I returned  to  my 
fixed  seat  behind  the  teacher’s  desk,  which 
gave  him  the  lower  place  of  a scholar. 

44  You  ought  to  have  the  place  of  honor, 
Captain  Littlepage,”  I said. 

“ A happy,  rural  seat  of  various  views,” 

he  quoted,  as  he  gazed  out  into  the  sunshine 
and  up  the  long  wooded  shore.  Then  he 
glanced  at  me,  and  looked  all  about  him  as 
pleased  as  a child. 

“ My  quotation  was  from  Paradise  Lost : 
the  greatest  of  poems,  I suppose  you 
know?”  and  I nodded.  44 There ’s  nothing 
that  ranks,  to  my  mind,  with  Paradise  Lost ; 
it ’s  all  lofty,  all  lofty,”  he  continued. 
46  Shakespeare  was  a great  poet ; he  copied 
life,  but  you  have  to  put  up  with  a great 
deal  of  low  talk.” 

I now  remembered  that  Mrs.  Todd  had 
told  me  one  day  that  Captain  Littlepage 
had  overset  his  mind  with  too  much  read- 
ing ; she  had  also  made  dark  reference  to 
his  having  44  spells  ” of  some  unexplainable 
nature.  I could  not  help  wondering  what 
errand  had  brought  him  out  in  search  of 


22  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

me.  There  was  something  quite  charming 
in  his  appearance  : it  was  a face  thin  and 
delicate  with  refinement,  but  worn  into  ap- 
pealing lines,  as  if  he  had  suffered  from 
loneliness  and  misapprehension.  He  looked, 
with  his  careful  precision  of  dress,  as  if  he 
were  the  object  of  cherishing  care  on  the 
part  of  elderly  unmarried  sisters,  but  I 
knew  Mari’  Harris  to  be  a very  common- 
place, inelegant  person,  who  would  have  no 
such  standards ; it  was  plain  that  the  cap- 
tain was  his  own  attentive  valet.  He  sat 
looking  at  me  expectantly.  I could  not 
help  thinking  that,  with  his  queer  head  and 
length  of  thinness,  he  was  made  to  hop 
along  the  road  of  life  rather  than  to  walk. 
The  captain  was  very  grave  indeed,  and  I 
bade  my  inward  spirit  keep  close  to  dis- 
cretion. 

“ Poor  Mrs.  Begg  has  gone,”  I ventured 
to  say.  I still  wore  my  Sunday  gown  by 
way  of  showing  respect. 

“ She  has  gone,”  said  the  captain,  — 
66  very  easy  at  the  last,  I was  informed  ; she 
slipped  away  as  if  she  were  glad  of  the  op- 
portunity.” 

I thought  of  the  Countess  of  Carberry, 
and  felt  that  history  repeated  itself. 


CAPTAIN  LITTLEPAGE . 


23 


“ She  was  one  of  the  old  stock,”  continued 
Captain  Littlepage,  with  touching  sincerity. 
“ She  was  very  much  looked  up  to  in  this 
town,  and  will  be  missed.” 

I wondered,  as  I looked  at  him,  if  he  had 
sprung  from  a line  of  ministers;  he  had 
the  refinement  of  look  and  air  of  command 
which  are  the  heritage  of  the  old  ecclesiasti- 
cal families  of  New  England.  But  as  Dar- 
win says  in  his  autobiography,  “ there  is  no 
such  king  as  a sea-captain  ; he  is  greater 
even  than  a king  or  a schoolmaster ! ” 

Captain  Littlepage  moved  his  chair  out 
of  the  wake  of  the  sunshine,  and  still  sat 
looking  at  me.  I began  to  be  very  eager  to 
know  upon  what  errand  he  had  come. 

“ It  may  be  found  out  some  o’  these 
days,”  he  said  earnestly.  u We  may  know 
it  all,  the  next  step  ; where  Mrs.  Begg  is 
now,  for  instance.  Certainty,  not  conjec- 
ture, is  what  we  all  desire.” 

“ I suppose  we  shall  know  it  all  some 
day,”  said  I. 

“We  shall  know  it  while  yet  below,” 
insisted  the  captain,  with  a flush  of  impa- 
tience on  his  thin  cheeks.  “We  have  not 
looked  for  truth  in  the  right  direction.  I 
know  what  I speak  of ; those  who  have 


24  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

laughed  at  me  little  know  how  much  reason 
my  ideas  are  based  upon.”  He  waved  his 
hand  toward  the  village  below.  “ In  that 
handful  of  houses  they  fancy  that  they 
comprehend  the  universe.” 

I smiled,  and  waited  for  him  to  go  on. 

“ I am  an  old  man,  as  you  can  see,”  he  con- 
tinued, u and  I have  been  a shipmaster  the 
greater  part  of  my  life,  — forty-three  years 
in  all.  You  may  not  think  it,  but  I am 
above  eighty  years  of  age.” 

He  did  not  look  so  old,  and  I hastened  to 
say  so. 

66  You  must  have  left  the  sea  a good  many 
years  ago,  then,  Captain  Littlepage  ? ” I 
said. 

“ I should  have  been  serviceable  at  least 
five  or  six  years  more,”  he  answered.  “ My 
acquaintance  with  certain  — my  experience 
upon  a certain  occasion,  I might  say,  gave 
rise  to  prejudice.  I do  not  mind  telling  you 
that  I chanced  to  learn  of  one  of  the  great- 
est discoveries  that  man  has  ever  made.” 

Now  we  were  approaching  dangerous 
ground,  but  a sudden  sense  of  his  suffer- 
ings at  the  hands  of  the  ignorant  came  to 
my  help,  and  I asked  to  hear  more  with  all 
the  deference  I really  felt.  A swallow  flew 


CAPTAIN  LITT LEPAGE . 


25 


into  the  schoolhouse  at  this  moment  as  if 
a kingbird  were  after  it,  and  beat  itself 
against  the  walls  for  a minute,  and  escaped 
again  to  the  open  air ; but  Captain  Lit- 
tlepage  took  no  notice  whatever  of  the 
flurry. 

“ I had  a valuable  cargo  of  general  mer- 
chandise from  the  London  docks  to  Fort 
Churchill,  a station  of  the  old  company  on 
Hudson’s  Bay,”  said  the  captain  earnestly. 
“ We  were  delayed  in  lading,  and  baffled  by 
head  winds  and  a heavy  tumbling  sea  all  the 
way  north-about  and  across.  Then  the  fog 
kept  us  off  the  coast;  and  when  I made 
port  at  last,  it  was  too  late  to  delay  in  those 
northern  waters  with  such  a vessel  and  such 
a crew  as  I had.  They  cared  for  nothing, 
and  idled  me  into  a fit  of  sickness  ; but  my 
first  mate  was  a good,  excellent  man,  with 
no  more  idea  of  being  frozen  in  there  until 
spring  than  I had,  so  we  made  what  speed 
we  could  to  get  clear  of  Hudson’s  Bay  and 
off  the  coast.  I owned  an  eighth  of  the 
vessel,  and  he  owned  a sixteenth  of  her. 
She  was  a full-rigged  ship,  called  the  Mi- 
nerva, but  she  was  getting  old  and  leaky. 
I meant  it  should  be  my  last  v’y’ge  in  her, 
and  so  it  proved.  She  had  been  an  excel- 


26  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

lent  vessel  in  her  day.  Of  the  cowards 
aboard  her  I can’t  say  so  much.” 

“ Then  you  were  wrecked  ? ” I asked,  as 
he  made  a long  pause. 

a I wa’n’t  caught  astern  o’  the  lighter  by 
any  fault  of  mine,”  said  the  captain  gloom- 
ily. “ We  left  Fort  Churchill  and  run  out 
into  the  Bay  with  a light  pair  o’  heels ; but 
I had  been  vexed  to  death  with  their  red- 
tape  rigging  at  the  company’s  office,  and 
chilled  with  stayin’  on  deck  an’  tryin’  to 
hurry  up  things,  and  when  we  were  well 
out  o’  sight  o’  land,  headin’  for  Hudson’s 
Straits,  I had  a bad  turn  o’  some  sort  o’ 
fever,  and  had  to  stay  below.  The  days 
were  getting  short,  and  we  made  good  runs, 
all  well  on  board  but  me,  and  the  crew  done 
their  work  by  dint  of  hard  driving.” 

I began  to  find  this  unexpected  narrative 
a little  dull.  Captain  Littlepage  spoke 
with  a kind  of  slow  correctness  that  lacked 
the  longshore  high  flavor  to  which  I had 
grown  used ; but  I listened  respectfully 
while  he  explained  the  winds  having  become 
contrary,  and  talked  on  in  a dreary  sort  of 
way  about  his  voyage,  the  bad  weather,  and 
the  disadvantages  he  was  under  in  the  light- 
ness of  his  ship,  which  bounced  about  like  a 


CAPTAIN  LITT LEPAGE. 


27 


chip  in  a bucket,  and  would  not  answer  the 
rudder  or  properly  respond  to  the  most  care- 
ful setting  of  sails. 

“So  there  we  were  blowin’  along  any- 
ways/’ he  complained ; but  looking  at  me 
at  this  moment,  and  seeing  that  my  thoughts 
were  unkindly  wandering,  he  ceased  to 
speak. 

“ It  was  a hard  life  at  sea  in  those  days, 
I am  sure,”  said  I,  with  redoubled  interest. 

“ It  was  a dog’s  life,”  said  the  poor  old 
gentleman,  quite  reassured,  “but  it  made 
men  of  those  who  followed  it.  I see  a 
change  for  the  worse  even  in  our  own  town 
here  ; full  of  loafers  now,  small  and  poor  as 
’t  is,  who  once  would  have  followed  the  sea, 
every  lazy  soul  of  ’em.  There  is  no  occu- 
pation so  fit  for  just  that  class  o’  men  who 
never  get  beyond  the  fo’cas’le.  I view  it,  in 
addition,  that  a community  narrows  down 
and  grows  dreadful  ignorant  when  it  is  shut 
up  to  its  own  affairs,  and  gets  no  knowledge 
of  the  outside  world  except  from  a cheap, 
unprincipled  newspaper.  In  the  old  days, 
a good  part  o’  the  best  men  here  knew  a 
hundred  ports  and  something  of  the  way 
folks  lived  in  them.  They  saw  the  world 
for  themselves,  and  like ’s  not  their  wives 


28  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

and  children  saw  it  with  them.  They  may 
not  have  had  the  best  of  knowledge  to  carry 
with  ’em  sight-seein’,  but  they  were  some 
acquainted  with  foreign  lands  an’  their  laws, 
an’  could  see  outside  the  battle  for  town 
clerk  here  in  Dunnet ; they  got  some  sense 
o’  proportion.  Yes,  they  lived  more  digni- 
fied, and  their  houses  were  better  within  an’ 
without.  Shipping ’s  a terrible  loss  to  this 
part  o’  New  England  from  a social  point  o’ 
view,  ma’am.” 

“I  have  thought  of  that  myself,”  I re- 
turned, with  my  interest  quite  awakened. 
“ It  accounts  for  the  change  in  a great  many 
things,  — the  sad  disappearance  of  sea-cap- 
tains,— does  n’t  it  ? ” 

“ A shipmaster  was  apt  to  get  the  habit 
of  reading,”  said  my  companion,  brightening 
still  more,  and  taking  on  a most  touching  air 
of  unreserve.  “ A captain  is  not  expected 
to  be  familiar  with  his  crew,  and  for  com- 
pany’s sake  in  dull  days  and  nights  he  turns 
to  his  book.  Most  of  us  old  shipmasters 
came  to  know  ’most  everything  about  some- 
thing ; one  would  take  to  readin’  on  farming 
topics,  and  some  were  great  on  medicine,  — 
but  Lord  help  their  poor  crews  ! — or  some 
were  all  for  history,  and  nowand  then  there ’d 


CAPTAIN  LITTLEPAGE. 


29 


be  one  like  me  that  gave  his  time  to  the 
poets.  I was  well  acquainted  with  a ship- 
master that  was  all  for  bees  an’  bee-keepin’ ; 
and  if  you  met  him  in  port  and  went  aboard, 
he ’d  sit  and  talk  a terrible  while  about  their 
havin’  so  much  information,  and  the  money 
that  could  be  made  out  of  keepin’  ’em.  He 
was  one  of  the  smartest  captains  that  ever 
sailed  the  seas,  but  they  used  to  call  the 
Newcastle,  a great  bark  he  commanded  for 
many  years,  Tuttle’s  beehive.  There  was 
old  Cap’n  Jameson  : he  had  notions  of  Solo- 
mon’s Temple,  and  made  a very  handsome 
little  model  of  the  same,  right  from  the 
Scripture  measurements,  same ’s  other  sail- 
ors make  little  ships  and  design  new  tricks 
of  rigging  and  all  that.  No,  there ’s  nothing 
to  take  the  place  of  shipping  in  a place  like 
ours.  These  bicycles  offend  me  dreadfully ; 
they  don’t  afford  no  real  opportunities  of 
experience  such  as  a man  gained  on  a voy- 
age. No : when  folks  left  home  in  the  old 
days  they  left  it  to  some  purpose,  and  when 
they  got  home  they  stayed  there  and  had 
some  pride  in  it.  There ’s  no  large-minded 
way  of  thinking  now : the  worst  have  got  to 
be  best  and  rule  everything ; we  ’re  all  turned 
upside  down  and  going  back  year  by  year.” 


30  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

“ Oh  no,  Captain  Littlepage,  I hope  not,” 
said  I,  trying  to  soothe  his  feelings. 

There  was  a silence  in  the  schoolhouse, 
but  we  could  hear  the  noise  of  the  water  on 
a beach  below.  It  sounded  like  the  strange 
warning  wave  that  gives  notice  of  the  turn 
of  the  tide.  A late  golden  robin,  with  the 
most  joyful  and  eager  of  voices,  was  singing 
close  by  in  a thicket  of  wild  roses. 


VI. 


THE  WAITING  PLACE. 

“ How  did  you  manage  with  the  rest  of 
that  rough  voyage  on  the  Minerva?”  I 
asked. 

“ I shall  be  glad  to  explain  to  you,”  said 
Captain  Littlepage,  forgetting  his  grievances 
for  the  moment.  “ If  I had  a map  at  hand 
I could  explain  better.  We  were  driven  to 
and  fro  ’way  up  toward  what  we  used  to  call 
Parry’s  Discoveries,  and  lost  our  bearings. 
It  was  thick  and  foggy,  and  at  last  I lost  my 
ship ; she  drove  on  a rock,  and  we  managed 
to  get  ashore  on  what  I took  to  be  a barren 
island,  the  few  of  us  that  were  left  alive. 
When  she  first  struck,  the  sea  was  somewhat 
calmer  than  it  had  been,  and  most  of  the 
crew,  against  orders,  manned  the  long-boat 
and  put  off  in  a hurry,  and  were  never  heard 
of  more.  Our  own  boat  upset,  but  the  car- 
penter kept  himself  and  me  above  water, 
and  we  drifted  in.  I had  no  strength  to  call 


32  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 


upon  after  my  recent  fever,  and  laid  down 
to  die ; but  he  found  the  tracks  of  a man 
and  dog  the  second  day,  and  got  along  the 
shore  to  one  of  those  far  missionary  stations 
that  the  Moravians  support.  They  were 
very  poor  themselves,  and  in  distress ; ’t  was 
a useless  place.  There  were  but  few  Esqui- 
maux left  in  that  region.  There  we  remained 
for  some  time,  and  I became  acquainted 
with  strange  events.” 

The  captain  lifted  his  head  and  gave  me 
a questioning  glance.  I could  not  help  no- 
ticing that  the  dulled  look  in  his  eyes  had 
gone,  and  there  was  instead  a clear  intent- 
ness that  made  them  seem  dark  and  piercing. 

“ There  was  a supply  ship  expected,  and 
the  pastor,  an  excellent  Christian  man,  made 
no  doubt  that  we  should  get  passage  in  her. 
He  was  hoping  that  orders  would  come  to 
break  up  the  station;  but  everything  was 
uncertain,  and  we  got  on  the  best  we  could 
for  a while.  We  fished,  and  helped  the 
people  in  other  ways  ; there  was  no  other 
wray  of  paying  our  debts.  I was  taken  to 
the  pastor’s  house  until  I got  better ; but 
they  were  crowded,  and  I felt  myself  in  the 
way,  and  made  excuse  to  join  with  an  old 
seaman,  a Scotchman,  who  had  built  him  a 


THE  WAITING  PLACE. 


33 


warm  cabin,  and  bad  room  in  it  for  another. 
He  was  looked  upon  with  regard,  and  had 
stood  by  the  pastor  in  some  troubles  with 
the  people.  He  had  been  on  one  of  those 
English  exploring  parties  that  found  one 
end  of  the  road  to  the  north  pole,  but  never 
could  find  the  other.  We  lived  like  dogs  in 
a kennel,  or  so  you ’d  thought  if  you  had 
seen  the  hut  from  the  outside  ; but  the  main 
thing  was  to  keep  warm ; there  were  piles 
of  birdskins  to  lie  on,  and  he ’d  made  him  a 
good  bunk,  and  there  was  another  for  me. 
’T  was  dreadful  dreary  waitin’  there ; we 
begun  to  think  the  supply  steamer  was  lost, 
and  my  poor  ship  broke  up  and  strewed  her- 
self all  along  the  shore.  We  got  to  watch- 
ing on  the  headlands  ; my  men  and  me  knew 
the  people  were  short  of  supplies  and  had  to 
pinch  themselves.  It  ought  to  read  in  the 
Bible,  6 Man  cannot  live  by  fish  alone,’  if 
they ’d  told  the  truth  of  things ; ’t  aint  bread 
that  wears  the  worst  on  you ! First  part 
of  the  time,  old  Gaffett,  that  I lived  with, 
seemed  speechless,  and  I did  n't  know  what 
to  make  of  him,  nor  he  of  me,  I dare  say ; 
but  as  we  got  acquainted,  I found  he ’d  been 
through  more  disasters  than  I had,  and  had 
troubles  that  wa’n’t  going  to  let  him  live  a 


34  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

great  while.  It  used  to  ease  his  mind  to 
talk  to  an  understanding  person,  so  we  used 
to  sit  and  talk  together  all  day,  if  it  rained 
or  blew  so  that  we  could  n’t  get  out.  I ’d  got 
a bad  blow  on  the  back  of  my  head  at  the 
time  we  came  ashore,  and  it  pained  me  at 
times,  and  my  strength  was  broken,  anyway ; 
I ’ve  never  been  so  able  since.” 

Captain  Littlepage  fell  into  a reverie. 

“ Then  I had  the  good  of  my  reading,” 
he  explained  presently.  “ I had  no  books  ; 
the  pastor  spoke  but  little  English,  and  all 
his  books  were  foreign ; but  I used  to  say 
over  all  I could  remember.  The  old  poets 
little  knew  what  comfort  they  could  be  to  a 
man.  I was  well  acquainted  with  the  works 
of  Milton,  but  up  there  it  did  seem  to  me 
as  if  Shakespeare  was  the  king ; he  has  his 
sea  terms  very  accurate,  and  some  beautiful 
passages  were  calming  to  the  mind.  I could 
say  them  over  until  I shed  tears  ; there  was 
nothing  beautiful  to  me  in  that  place  but  the 
stars  above  and  those  passages  of  verse. 

“ Gaffett  was  always  brooding  and  brood- 
ing, and  talking  to  himself ; he  was  afraid 
he  should  never  get  away,  and  it  preyed  upon 
his  mind.  He  thought  when  I got  home  I 
could  interest  the  scientific  men  in  his  dis- 


THE  WAITING  PLACE . 


35 


covery : but  they  ’re  all  taken  up  with  their 
own  notions ; some  did  n’t  even  take  pains 
to  answer  the  letters  I wrote.  You  observe 
that  I said  this  crippled  man  Gaffett  had 
been  shipped  on  a voyage  of  discovery.  I 
now  tell  you  that  the  ship  was  lost  on  its  re- 
turn, and  only  Gaffett  and  two  officers  were 
saved  off  the  Greenland  coast,  and  he  had 
knowledge  later  that  those  men  never  got 
back  to  England ; the  brig  they  shipped  on 
was  run  down  in  the  night.  So  no  other 
living  soul  had  the  facts,  and  he  gave  them 
to  me.  There  is  a strange  sort  of  a country 
’way  up  north  beyond  the  ice,  and  strange 
folks  living  in  it.  Gaffett  believed  it  was 
the  next  world  to  this.” 

u What  do  you  mean,  Captain  Little- 
page  ? ” I exclaimed.  The  old  man  was 
bending  forward  and  whispering ; he  looked 
over  his  shoulder  before  he  spoke  the  last 
sentence. 

64  To  hear  old  Gaffett  tell  about  it  was 
something  awful,”  he  said,  going  on  with  his 
story  quite  steadily  after  the  moment  of  ex- 
citement had  passed.  44  ’T  was  first  a tale 
of  dogs  and  sledges,  and  cold  and  wind  and 
snow.  Then  they  begun  to  find  the  ice  grow 
rotten ; they  had  been  frozen  in,  and  got 


36  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

into  a current  flowing  north,  far  up  beyond 
Fox  Channel,  and  they  took  to  their  boats 
when  the  ship  got  crushed,  and  this  warm 
current  took  them  out  of  sight  of  the  ice, 
and  into  a great  open  sea  ; and  they  still  fol- 
lowed it  due  north,  just  the  very  way  they 
had  planned  to  go.  Then  they  struck  a 
coast  that  was  n’t  laid  down  or  charted,  but 
the  cliffs  were  such  that  no  boat  could  land 
until  they  found  a bay  and  struck  across 
under  sail  to  the  other  side  where  the  shore 
looked  lower ; they  were  scant  of  provisions 
and  out  of  water,  but  they  got  sight  of  some- 
thing that  looked  like  a great  town.  ‘ For 
God’s  sake,  Gaffett ! ’ said  I,  the  first  time 
he  told  me.  ‘ You  don’t  mean  a town  two 
degrees  farther  north  than  ships  had  ever 
been  ? ’ for  he ’d  got  their  course  marked  on 
an  old  chart  that  he ’d  pieced  out  at  the  top  ; 
but  he  insisted  upon  it,  and  told  it  over  and 
over  again,  to  be  sure  I had  it  straight  to 
carry  to  those  who  would  be  interested. 
There  was  no  snow  and  ice,  he  said,  after 
they  had  sailed  some  days  with  that  warm 
current,  which  seemed  to  come  right  from 
under  the  ice  that  they ’d  been  pinched 
up  in  and  had  been  crossing  on  foot  for 
weeks.” 


THE  WAITING  PLACE . 37 

“ But  what  about  the  town  ? ” I asked. 
“ Did  they  get  to  the  town?  ” 

“ They  did,”  said  the  captain,  “ and  found 
inhabitants;  ’t  was  an  awful  condition  of 
things.  It  appeared,  as  near  as  Gaffett  could 
express  it,  like  a place  where  there  was 
neither  living  nor  dead.  They  could  see 
the  place  when  they  were  approaching  it  by 
sea  pretty  near  like  any  town,  and  thick  with 
habitations ; but  all  at  once  they  lost  sight 
of  it  altogether,  and  when  they  got  close  in- 
shore they  could  see  the  shapes  of  folks, 
but  they  never  could  get  near  them,  — all 
blowing  gray  figures  that  would  pass  along 
alone,  or  sometimes  gathered  in  companies 
as  if  they  were  watching.  The  men  were 
frightened  at  first,  but  the  shapes  never  came 
near  them,  — it  was  as  if  they  blew  back ; 
and  at  last  they  all  got  bold  and  went  ashore, 
and  found  birds’  eggs  and  sea  fowl,  like  any 
wild  northern  spot  where  creatures  were 
tame  and  folks  had  never  been,  and  there 
was  good  water.  Gaffett  said  that  he  and 
another  man  came  near  one  o’  the  fog-shaped 
men  that  was  going  along  slow  with  the  look 
of  a pack  on  his  back,  among  the  rocks,  an’ 
they  chased  him ; but,  Lord ! he  flittered 
away  out  o’  sight  like  a leaf  the  wind  takes 


38  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

with  it,  or  a piece  of  cobweb.  They  would 
make  as  if  they  talked  together,  but  there 
was  no  sound  of  voices,  and  6 they  acted  as  if 
they  did  n’t  see  us,  but  only  felt  us  coming 
towards  them,’  says  Gaffett  one  day,  try- 
ing to  tell  the  particulars.  They  couldn’t 
see  the  town  when  they  were  ashore.  One 
day  the  captain  and  the  doctor  were  gone 
till  night  up  across  the  high  land  where  the 
town  had  seemed  to  be,  and  they  came  back 
at  night  beat  out  and  white  as  ashes,  and 
wrote  and  wrote  all  next  day  in  their  note- 
books, and  whispered  together  full  of  excite- 
ment, and  they  were  sharp-spoken  with  the 
men  when  they  offered  to  ask  any  questions. 

“ Then  there  came  a day,”  said  Captain 
Littlepage,  leaning  toward  me  with  a strange 
look  in  his  eyes,  and  whispering  quickly. 
“ The  men  all  swore  they  would  n’t  stay  any 
longer ; the  man  on  watch  early  in  the  morn- 
ing gave  the  alarm,  and  they  all  put  off  in 
the  boat  and  got  a little  way  out  to  sea. 
Those  folks,  or  whatever  they  were,  come 
about  ’em  like  bats  ; all  at  once  they  raised 
incessant  armies,  and  come  as  if  to  drive  ’em 
back  to  sea.  They  stood  thick  at  the  edge 
o’  the  water  like  the  ridges  o’  grim  war  ; no 
thought  o’  flight,  none  of  retreat.  Some- 


THE  WAITING  PLACE . 


39 


times  a standing  fight,  then  soaring  on  main 
wing  tormented  all  the  air.  And  when 
they ’d  got  the  boat  out  o’  reach  o’  danger, 
Gaffett  said  they  looked  back,  and  there  was 
the  town  again,  standing  up  just  as  they ’d 
seen  it  first,  cornin’  on  the  coast.  Say  what 
you  might,  they  all  believed ’t  was  a kind 
of  waiting-place  between  this  world  an’  the 
next.” 

The  captain  had  sprung  to  his  feet  in  his 
excitement,  and  made  excited  gestures,  but 
he  still  whispered  huskily. 

“ Sit  down,  sir,”  I said  as  quietly  as  I 
could,  and  he  sank  into  his  chair  quite  spent. 

“ Gaffett  thought  the  officers  were  hurry- 
ing home  to  report  and  to  fit  out  a new  ex- 
pedition when  they  were  all  lost.  At  the 
time,  the  men  got  orders  not  to  talk  over 
what  they  had  seen,”  the  old  man  explained 
presently  in  a more  natural  tone. 

“ Were  n’t  they  all  starving,  and  was  n’t  it 
a mirage  or  something  of  that  sort  ? ” I ven- 
tured to  ask.  But  he  looked  at  me  blankly. 

“Gaffett  had  got  so  that  his  mind  ran 
on  nothing  else,”  he  went  on.  “ The  ship’s 
surgeon  let  fall  an  opinion  to  the  captain, 
one  day,  that  ’t  was  some  condition  o’  the 
light  and  the  magnetic  currents  that  let 


40  COUNTRY  OF  TEE  POINTED  FIRS . 

them  see  those  folks.  ’T  wa’n’t  a right-feel- 
ing part  of  the  world,  anyway ; they  had 
to  battle  with  the  compass  to  make  it  serve, 
an’  everything  seemed  to  go  wrong.  Gaffett 
had  worked  it  out  in  his  own  mind  that  they 
was  all  common  ghosts,  but  the  conditions 
were  unusual  favorable  for  seeing  them. 
He  was  always  talking  about  the  Ge’graphi- 
cal  Society,  but  he  never  took  proper  steps, 
as  I view  it  now,  and  stayed  right  there  at 
the  mission.  He  was  a good  deal  crippled, 
and  thought  they ’d  confine  him  in  some  jail 
of  a hospital.  He  said  he  was  waiting  to 
find  the  right  men  to  tell,  somebody  bound 
north.  Once  in  a while  they  stopped  there 
to  leave  a mail  or  something.  He  was  set 
in  his  notions,  and  let  two  or  three  proper 
explorin’  expeditions  go  by  him  because  he 
did  n’t  like  their  looks ; but  when  I was 
there  he  had  got  restless,  fearin’  he  might 
be  taken  away  or  something.  He  had  all 
his  directions  written  out  straight  as  a string 
to  give  the  right  ones.  I wanted  him  to 
trust  ’em  to  me,  so  I might  have  something 
to  show,  but  he  would  n’t.  I suppose  he ’s 
dead  now.  I wrote  to  him,  an’  I done  all  I 
could.  ’T  will  be  a great  exploit  some  o’ 
these  days.” 


THE  WAITING  PLACE. 


41 


I assented  absent-mindedly,  thinking  more 
just  then  of  my  companion’s  alert,  deter- 
mined look  and  the  seafaring,  ready  aspect 
that  had  come  to  his  face ; but  at  this  mo- 
ment there  fell  a sudden  change,  and  the  old, 
pathetic,  scholarly  look  returned.  Behind 
me  hung  a map  of  North  America,  and  I 
saw,  as  I turned  a little,  that  his  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  northernmost  regions  and 
their  careful  recent  outlines  with  a look  of 
bewilderment. 


VII. 


THE  OUTER  ISLAND. 

Gaffett  with  his  good  bunk  and  the 
bird-skins,  the  story  of  the  wreck  of  the 
Minerva,  the  human-shaped  creatures  of  fog 
and  cobweb,  the  great  words  of  Milton  with 
which  he  described  their  onslaught  upon  the 
crew,  all  this  moving  tale  had  such  an  air  of 
truth  that  I could  not  argue  with  Captain 
Littlepage.  The  old  man  looked  away  from 
the  map  as  if  it  had  vaguely  troubled  him, 
and  regarded  me  appealingly. 

“We  were  just  speaking  of”  — and  he 
stopped.  I saw  that  he  had  suddenly  for- 
gotten his  subject. 

“ There  were  a great  many  persons  at  the 
funeral,”  I hastened  to  say. 

“ Oh  yes,”  the  captain  answered,  with  sat- 
isfaction. “ All  showed  respect  who  could. 
The  sad  circumstances  had  for  a moment 
slipped  my  mind.  Yes,  Mrs.  Begg  will  be 
very  much  missed.  She  was  a capital  man- 


THE  OUTER  ISLAND. 


43 


ager  for  her  husband  when  he  was  at  sea. 
Oh  yes,  shipping  is  a very  great  loss.”  And 
he  sighed  heavily.  “ There  was  hardly  a 
man  of  any  standing  who  did  n’t  interest 
himself  in  some  way  in  navigation.  It 
always  gave  credit  to  a town.  I call  it  low- 
water  mark  now  here  in  Dunnet.” 

He  rose  with  dignity  to  take  leave,  and 
asked  me  to  stop  at  his  house  some  day, 
when  he  would  show  me  some  outlandish 
things  that  he  had  brought  home  from  sea. 
I was  familiar  with  the  subject  of  the  deca- 
dence of  shipping  interests  in  all  its  affect- 
ing branches,  having  been  already  some 
time  in  Dunnet,  and  I felt  sure  that  Cap- 
tain Littlepage’s  mind  had  now  returned  to 
a safe  level. 

As  we  came  down  the  hill  toward  the  vil- 
lage our  ways  divided,  and  when  I had  seen 
the  old  captain  well  started  on  a smooth 
piece  of  sidewalk  which  would  lead  him  to 
his  own  door,  we  parted,  the  best  of  friends. 
44  Step  in  some  afternoon,”  he  said,  as  affec- 
tionately as  if  I were  a fellow-shipmaster 
wrecked  on  the  lee  shore  of  age  like  him- 
self. I turned  toward  home,  and  presently 
met  Mrs.  Todd  coming  toward  me  with  an 
anxious  expression. 


44  COUNTRY  OF  TEE  POINTED  FIRS . 

“ I see  you  sleevin’  the  old  gentleman 
down  the  hill,”  she  suggested. 

“Yes.  I’ve  had  a very  interesting  after- 
noon with  him,”  I answered ; and  her  face 
brightened. 

“ Oh,  then  he’s  all  right.  I was  afraid 
’t  was  one  o’  his  flighty  spells,  an’  Mari’  Har- 
ris would  n’t  ” — 

“ Yes,”  I returned,  smiling,  “ he  has  been 
telling  me  some  old  stories,  but  we  talked 
about  Mrs.  Begg  and  the  funeral  beside,  and 
Paradise  Lost.” 

“I  expect  he  got  tellin’  of  you  some  o’ 
his  great  narratives,”  she  answered,  looking 
at  me  shrewdly.  “ Funerals  always  sets  him 
goin’.  Some  o’  them  tales  hangs  together 
toler’ble  well,”  she  added,  with  a sharper 
look  than  before.  “ An’  he ’s  been  a great 
reader  all  his  seafarin’  days.  Some  thinks 
he  overdid,  and  affected  his  head,  but  for  a 
man  o’  his  years  he ’s  amazin’  now  when  he ’s 
at  his  best.  Oh,  he  used  to  be  a beautiful 
man ! ” 

We  were  standing  where  there  was  a fine 
view  of  the  harbor  and  its  long  stretches  of 
shore  all  covered  by  the  great  army  of  the 
pointed  firs,  darkly  cloaked  and  standing  as 


THE  OUTER  ISLAND. 


45 


if  they  waited  to  embark.  As  we  looked 
far  seaward  among  the  outer  islands,  the 
trees  seemed  to  march  seaward  still,  going 
steadily  over  the  heights  and  down  to  the 
water’s  edge. 

It  had  been  growing  gray  and  cloudy,  like 
the  first  evening  of  autumn,  and  a shadow 
had  fallen  on  the  darkening  shore.  Sud- 
denly, as  we  looked,  a gleam  of  golden  sun- 
shine struck  the  outer  islands,  and  one  of 
them  shone  out  clear  in  the  light,  and  re- 
vealed itself  in  a compelling  way  to  our 
eyes.  Mrs.  Todd  was  looking  off  across  the 
bay  with  a face  full  of  affection  and  interest. 
The  sunburst  upon  that  outermost  island 
made  it  seem  like  a sudden  revelation  of  the 
world  beyond  this  which  some  believe  to  be 
so  near. 

“That ’s  where  mother  lives,”  said  Mrs. 
Todd.  “ Can’t  we  see  it  plain  ? I was 
brought  up  out  there  on  Green  Island.  I 
know  every  rock  an’  bush  on  it.” 

“Your  mother!  ” I exclaimed,  with  great 
interest. 

“Yes,  dear,  cert’in;  I’ve  got  her  yet, 
old ’s  I be.  She ’s  one  of  them  spry,  light- 
footed  little  women ; always  was,  an’  light- 
hearted, too,”  answered  Mrs.  Todd,  with 


46  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

satisfaction.  “ She ’s  seen  all  the  trouble 
folks  can  see,  without  it ’s  her  last  sickness  ; 
an’  she ’s  got  a word  of  courage  for  every- 
body. Life  ain’t  spoilt  her  a mite.  She ’s 
eighty-six  an’  I ’m  sixty-seven,  and  I ’ve 
seen  the  time  I ’ve  felt  a good  sight  the  old- 
est. 6 Land  sakes  alive  ! ’ says  she,  last  time 
I was  out  to  see  her.  6 How  you  do  lurch 
about  steppin’  into  a bo’t ! ’ I laughed  so  I 
liked  to  have  gone  right  over  into  the  water ; 
an’  we  pushed  off,  an’  left  her  laughin’  there 
on  the  shore.” 

The  light  had  faded  as  we  watched.  Mrs. 
Todd  had  mounted  a gray  rock,  and  stood 
there  grand  and  architectural,  like  a carya- 
tide . Presently  she  stepped  down,  and  we 
continued  our  way  homeward. 

“ You  an’  me,  we  ’ll  take  a bo’t  an’  go  out 
some  day  and  see  mother,”  she  promised 
me.  “ ’T  would  please  her  very  much,  an’ 
there ’s  one  or  two  sca’ce  herbs  grows  bet- 
ter on  the  island  than  anywheres  else.  I 
ain’t  seen  their  like  nowheres  here  on  the 
main.” 

“Now  I’m  goin’  right  down  to  get  us 
each  a mug  o’  my  beer,”  she  announced  as 
we  entered  the  house,  “ an’  I believe  I ’ll 
sneak  in  a little  mite  o’  camomile.  Goin’ 


THE  OUTER  ISLAND. 


47 


to  the  funeral  an’  all,  I feel  to  have  had  a 
very  wearin’  afternoon.” 

I heard  her  going  down  into  the  cool  little 
cellar,  and  then  there  was  considerable  delay. 
When  she  returned,  mug  in  hand,  I noticed 
the  taste  of  camomile,  in  spite  of  my  pro- 
test ; but  its  flavor  was  disguised  by  some 
other  herb  that  I did  not  know,  and  she 
stood  over  me  until  I drank  it  all  and  said 
that  I liked  it. 

“I  don’t  give  that  to  everybody,”  said 
Mrs.  Todd  kindly ; and  I felt  for  a moment 
as  if  it  were  part  of  a spell  and  incantation, 
and  as  if  my  enchantress  would  now  begin 
to  look  like  the  cobweb  shapes  of  the  arctic 
town.  Nothing  happened  but  a quiet  even- 
ing and  some  delightful  plans  that  we  made 
about  going  to  Green  Island,  and  on  the 
morrow  there  was  the  clear  sunshine  and 
blue  sky  of  another  day. 


VIII. 

GREEN  ISLAND. 

One  morning,  very  early,  I heard  Mrs. 
Todd  in  the  garden  outside  my  window.  By 
the  unusual  loudness  of  her  remarks  to  a 
passer-by,  and  the  notes  of  a familiar  hymn 
which  she  sang  as  she  worked  among  the 
herbs,  and  which  came  as  if  directed  pur- 
posely to  the  sleepy  ears  of  my  conscious- 
ness, I knew  that  she  wished  I would  wake 
up  and  come  and  speak  to  her. 

In  a few  minutes  she  responded  to  a morn- 
ing voice  from  behind  the  blinds.  “ I ex- 
pect you  ’re  goin’  up  to  your  schoolhouse 
to  pass  all  this  pleasant  day ; yes,  I expect 
you  ’re  goin’  to  be  dreadful  busy,”  she  said 
despairingly. 

“ Perhaps  not,”  said  I.  “Why,  what’s 
going  to  be  the  matter  with  you,  Mrs. 
Todd  ? ” For  I supposed  that  she  was 
tempted  by  the  fine  weather  to  take  one  of 
her  favorite  expeditions  along  the  shore  pas- 


GREEN  ISLAND.  49 

tures  to  gather  herbs  and  simples,  and  would 
like  to  have  me  keep  the  house. 

“ No,  I don’t  want  to  go  nowhere  by 
land,”  she  answered  gayly,  — “no,  not  by 
land ; but  I don’t  know ’s  we  shall  have  a 
better  day  all  the  rest  of  the  summer  to  go 
out  to  Green  Island  an’  see  mother.  I waked 
up  early  thinkin’  of  her.  The  wind ’s  light 
northeast,  — ’t  will  take  us  right  straight 
out ; an’  this  time  o’  year  it ’s  liable  to  change 
round  southwest  an’  fetch  us  home  pretty, 
’long  late  in  the  afternoon.  Yes,  it ’s  goin’ 
to  be  a good  day.” 

“ Speak  to  the  captain  and  the  Bowden 
boy,  if  you  see  anybody  going  by  toward 
the  landing,”  said  I.  “ We’ll  take  the  big 
boat.” 

“ Oh,  my  sakes  ! now  you  let  me  do  things 
my  way,”  said  Mrs.  Todd  scornfully.  “ No, 
dear,  we  won’t  take  no  big  bo’t.  I ’ll  just 
git  a handy  dory,  an’  Johnny  Bowden  an’ 
me,  we  ’ll  man  her  ourselves.  I don’t  want 
no  abler  bo’t  than  a good  dory,  an’  a nice 
light  breeze  ain’t  goin’  to  make  no  sea ; an’ 
Johnny ’s  my  cousin’s  son,  — mother  ’ll  like 
to  have  him  come ; an’  he  ’ll  be  down  to  the 
herrin’  weirs  all  the  time  we  ’re  there,  any- 
way ; we  don’t  want  to  carry  no  men  folks 


50  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

havin’  to  be  considered  every  minute  an’ 
takin’  up  all  our  time.  No,  you  let  me  do  ; 
we  ’ll  just  slip  out  an’  see  mother  by  our- 
selves. I guess  what  breakfast  you  ’ll  want ’s 
about  ready  now.” 

I had  become  well  acquainted  with  Mrs. 
Todd  as  landlady,  herb-gatherer,  and  rustic 
philosopher;  we  had  been  discreet  fellow- 
passengers  once  or  twice  when  I had  sailed 
up  the  coast  to  a larger  town  than  Dunnet 
Landing  to  do  some  shopping;  but  I was 
yet  to  become  acquainted  with  her  as  a 
mariner.  An  hour  later  we  pushed  off  from 
the  landing  in  the  desired  dory.  The  tide 
was  just  on  the  turn,  beginning  to  fall,  and 
several  friends  and  acquaintances  stood  along 
the  side  of  the  dilapidated  wharf  and  cheered 
us  by  their  words  and  evident  interest. 
Johnny  Bowden  and  I were  both  rowing  in 
haste  to  get  out  where  we  could  catch  the 
breeze  and  put  up  the  small  sail  which  lay 
clumsily  furled  along  the  gunwale.  Mrs. 
Todd  sat  aft,  a stern  and  unbending  law- 
giver. 

“ You  better  let  her  drift ; we  ’ll  get  there 
’bout  as  quick ; the  tide  ’ll  take  her  right 
out  from  under  these  old  buildin’s ; there ’s 
plenty  wind  outside.” 


GREEN  ISLAND . 


51 


“ Your  bo’t  ain’t  trimmed  proper,  Mis’ 
Todd!”  exclaimed  a voice  from  shore. 
“You  ’re  lo’ded  so  the  bo’t  ’ll  drag;  you 
can’t  git  her  before  the  wind,  ma’am.  You 
set  ’midships,  Mis’  Todd,  an’  let  the  boy 
hold  the  sheet  ’n’  steer  after  he  gits  the 
sail  up ; you  won’t  never  git  out  to  Green 
Island  that  way.  She ’s  lo’ded  bad,  your 
bo’t  is,  — she ’s  heavy  behind ’s  she  is 
now ! ” 

Mrs.  Todd  turned  with  some  difficulty 
and  regarded  the  anxious  adviser,  my  right 
oar  flew  out  of  water,  and  we  seemed  about 
to  capsize.  “ That  you,  Asa  ? Good-morn- 
in’,  ” she  said  politely.  “ I al’ays  liked  the 
starn  seat  best.  When ’d  you  git  back  from 
up  country  ? ” 

This  allusion  to  Asa’s  origin  was  not  lost 
upon  the  rest  of  the  company.  We  were 
some  little  distance  from  shore,  but  we  could 
hear  a chuckle  of  laughter,  and  Asa,  a per- 
son who  was  too  ready  with  his  criticism  and 
advice  on  every  possible  subject,  turned  and 
walked  indignantly  away. 

When  we  caught  the  wind  we  were  soon  on 
our  seaward  course,  and  only  stopped  to  un- 
derrun a trawl,  for  the  floats  of  which  Mrs. 
Todd  looked  earnestly,  explaining  that  her 


u-  Ot  ILL.  UB. 


52  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

mother  might  not  be  prepared  for  three 
extra  to  dinner ; it  was  her  brother’s  trawl, 
and  she  meant  to  just  run  her  eye  along  for 
the  right  sort  of  a little  haddock.  I leaned 
over  the  boat’s  side  with  great  interest  and 
excitement,  while  she  skillfully  handled 
the  long  line  of  hooks,  and  made  scornful 
remarks  upon  worthless,  bait-consuming  crea- 
tures of  the  sea  as  she  reviewed  them  and 
left  them  on  the  trawl  or  shook  them  off 
into  the  waves.  At  last  we  came  to  what 
she  pronounced  a proper  haddock,  and  hav- 
ing taken  him  on  board  and  ended  his  life 
resolutely,  we  went  our  way. 

As  we  sailed  along  I listened  to  an  in- 
creasingly delightful  commentary  upon  the 
islands,  some  of  them  barren  rocks,  or  at 
best  giving  sparse  pasturage  for  sheep  in  the 
early  summer.  On  one  of  these  an  eager  lit- 
tle flock  ran  to  the  water’s  edge  and  bleated 
at  us  so  affectingly  that  I would  willingly 
have  stopped ; but  Mrs.  Todd  steered  away 
from  the  rocks,  and  scolded  at  the  sheep’s 
mean  owner,  an  acquaintance  of  hers,  who 
grudged  the  little  salt  and  still  less  care 
which  the  patient  creatures  needed.  The  hot 
midsummer  sun  makes  prisons  of  these  small 
islands  that  are  a paradise  in  early  June, 


GREEN  ISLAND. 


53 


with,  their  cool  springs  and  short  thick-grow- 
ing grass.  On  a larger  island,  farther  out 
to  sea,  my  entertaining  companion  showed 
me  with  glee  the  small  houses  of  two  farmers 
who  shared  the  island  between  them,  and  de- 
clared that  for  three  generations  the  people 
had  not  spoken  to  each  other  even  in  times 
of  sickness  or  death  or  birth.  “ When  the 
news  come  that  the  war  was  over,  one  of  ’em 
knew  it  a week,  and  never  stepped  across  his 
wall  to  tell  the  others,”  she  said.  “ There, 
they  enjoy  it : they ’ve  got  to  have  somethin’ 
to  interest  ’em  in  such  a place ; ’t  is  a good 
deal  more  tryin’  to  be  tied  to  folks  you  don’t 
like  than  ’t  is  to  be  alone.  Each  of  ’em 
tells  the  neighbors  their  wrongs ; plenty 
likes  to  hear  and  tell  again ; them  as  fetch  a 
bone  ’ll  carry  one,  an’  so  they  keep  the  fight 
a-goin’.  I must  say  I like  variety  myself ; 
some  folks  washes  Monday  an’  irons  Tues- 
day the  whole  year  round,  even  if  the  circus 
is  goin’  by ! ” 

A long  time  before  we  landed  at  Green 
Island  we  could  see  the  small  white  house, 
standing  high  like  a beacon,  where  Mrs. 
Todd  was  born  and  where  her  mother  lived, 
on  a green  slope  above  the  water,  with  dark 
spruce  woods  still  higher.  There  were  crops 


54  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

in  the  fields,  which  we  presently  distinguished 
from  one  another.  Mrs.  Todd  examined 
them  while  we  were  still  far  at  sea. 
44  Mother’s  late  potatoes  looks  backward ; 
ain’t  had  rain  enough  so  far,”  she  pro- 
nounced her  opinion.  44  They  look  weedier 
than  what  they  call  Front  Street  down  to 
Cowper  Centre.  I expect  brother  William 
is  so  occupied  with  his  herrin’  weirs  an’ 
servin’  out  bait  to  the  schooners  that  he 
don’t  think  once  a day  of  the  land.” 

44  What ’s  the  flag  for,  up  above  the  spruces 
there  behind  the  house  ? ” I inquired,  with 
eagerness. 

44  Oh,  that ’s  the  sign  for  herrin’,  ” she 
explained  kindly,  while  Johnny  Bowden 
regarded  me  with  contemptuous  surprise. 
44  When  they  get  enough  for  schooners  they 
raise  that  flag ; an’  when ’t  is  a poor  catch 
in  the  weir  pocket  they  just  fly  a little 
signal  down  by  the  shore,  an’  then  the  small 
bo’ts  comes  and  get  enough  an’  over  for  their 
trawls.  There,  look ! there  she  is : mother 
sees  us  ; she ’s  wavin’  somethin’  out  o’  the 
fore  door ! She  ’ll  be  to  the  landin’-place 
quick ’s  we  are.” 

I looked,  and  could  see  a tiny  flutter  in 
the  doorway,  but  a quicker  signal  had  made 


GREEN  ISLAND. 


55 


its  way  from  the  heart  on  shore  to  the  heart 
on  the  sea. 

“How  do  you  suppose  she  knows  it’s 
me  ? ” said  Mrs.  Todd,  with  a tender  smile 
on  her  broad  face.  “ There,  you  never  get 
over  bein’  a child  long ’s  you  have  a mother 
to  go  to.  Look  at  the  chimney,  now ; she ’s 
gone  right  in  an’  brightened  up  the  fire. 
Well,  there,  I ’m  glad  mother’s  well ; you  ’ll 
enjoy  seein’  her  very  much.” 

Mrs.  Todd  leaned  back  into  her  proper 
position,  and  the  boat  trimmed  again.  She 
took  a firmer  grasp  of  the  sheet,  and  gave 
an  impatient  look  up  at  the  gaff  and  the 
leech  of  the  little  sail,  and  twitched  the  sheet 
as  if  she  urged  the  wind  like  a horse.  There 
came  at  once  a fresh  gust,  and  we  seemed 
to  have  doubled  our  speed.  Soon  we  were 
near  enough  to  see  a tiny  figure  with  hand- 
kerchiefed  head  come  down  across  the  field 
and  stand  waiting  for  us  at  the  cove  above 
a curve  of  pebble  beach. 

Presently  the  dory  grated  on  the  pebbles, 
and  Johnny  Bowden,  who  had  been  kept  in 
abeyance  during  the  voyage,  sprang  out  and 
used  manful  exertions  to  haul  us  up  with  the 
next  wave,  so  that  Mrs.  Todd  could  make  a 
dry  landing. 


56  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

“You  done  that  very  well,”  she  said, 
mounting  to  her  feet,  and  coming  ashore 
somewhat  stiffly,  but  with  great  dignity,  re- 
fusing our  outstretched  hands,  and  return- 
ing to  possess  herself  of  a bag  which  had 
lain  at  her  feet. 

‘‘Well,  mother,  here  I be!”  she  an- 
nounced with  indifference ; but  they  stood 
and  beamed  in  each  other’s  faces. 

“ Lookin’  pretty  well  for  an  old  lady,  ain’t 
she  ? ” said  Mrs.  Todd’s  mother,  turning 
away  from  her  daughter  to  speak  to  me. 
She  was  a delightful  little  person  herself, 
with  bright  eyes  and  an  affectionate  air  of 
expectation  like  a child  on  a holiday.  You 
felt  as  if  Mrs.  Blackett  were  an  old  and 
dear  friend  before  you  let  go  her  cordial 
hand.  We  all  started  together  up  the  hill. 

“ Now  don’t  you  haste  too  fast,  mother,” 
said  Mrs.  Todd  warningly ; “ ’t  is  a far 
reach  o’  risin’  ground  to  the  fore  door,  and 
you  won’t  set  an’  get  your  breath  when 
you  ’re  once  there,  but  go  trotting  about. 
Now  don’t  you  go  a mite  faster  than  we  pro- 
ceed with  this  bag  an’  basket.  J ohnny,  there, 
’ll  fetch  up  the  haddock.  I just  made  one 
stop  to  underrun  W illiam’s  trawl  till  I come 
to  jes’  such  a fish ’s  I thought  you ’d  want  to 


GREEN  ISLAND. 


57 


make  one  o’  your  nice  chowders  of.  I ’ve 
brought  an  onion  with  me  that  was  layin’ 
about  on  the  window-sill  at  home.” 

“That’s  just  what  I was  wantin’,”  said 
the  hostess.  “ I give  a sigh  when  you 
spoke  o’  chowder,  knowin’  my  onions  was  out. 
William  forgot  to  replenish  us  last  time  he 
was  to  the  Landin’.  Don’t  you  haste  so 
yourself,  Almiry,  up  this  risin’  ground.  I 
hear  you  commencin’  to  wheeze  a’ready.” 

This  mild  revenge  seemed  to  afford  great 
pleasure  to  both  giver  and  receiver.  They 
laughed  a little,  and  looked  at  each  other 
affectionately,  and  then  at  me.  Mrs.  Todd 
considerately  paused,  and  faced  about  to  re- 
gard the  wide  sea  view.  I was  glad  to  stop, 
being  more  out  of  breath  than  either  of  my 
companions,  and  I prolonged  the  halt  by 
asking  the  names  of  the  neighboring  islands. 
There  was  a fine  breeze  blowing,  which  we 
felt  more  there  on  the  high  land  than  when 
wTe  were  running  before  it  in  the  dory. 

“ Why,  this  ain’t  that  kitten  I saw  when 
I was  out  last,  the  one  that  I said  did  n’t  ap- 
pear likely  ? ” exclaimed  Mrs.  Todd  as  we 
went  our  way. 

“ That ’s  the  one,  Almiry,”  said  her 
mother.  “ She  always  had  a likely  look  to 


58  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

me,  an’  she ’s  right  after  her  business.  I 
never  see  such  a mouser  for  one  of  her  age. 
If  ’t  wan’t  for  William,  I never  should  have 
housed  that  other  dronin’  old  thing  so  long ; 
but  he  sets  by  her  on  account  of  her  havin’ 
a bob  tail.  I don’t  deem  it  advisable  to 
maintain  cats  just  on  account  of  their  hav- 
in’ bob  tails  ; they  ’re  like  all  other  curiosi- 
ties, good  for  them  that  wants  to  see  ’em 
twice.  This  kitten  catches  mice  for  both, 
an’  keeps  me  respectable  as  I ain’t  been  for 
a year.  She ’s  a real  understandin’  little 
help,  this  kitten  is.  I picked  her  from 
among  five  Miss  Augusta  Pennell  had  over 
to  Burnt  Island,”  said  the  old  woman,  trudg- 
ing along  with  the  kitten  close  at  her  skirts. 
“ Augusta,  she  says  to  me,  6 Why,  Mis’ 
Blackett,  you ’ve  took  the  homeliest;’  an’ 
says  I,  c I ’ve  got  the  smartest ; I ’m  satis- 
fied.’ ” 

“ I ’d  trust  nobody  sooner  ’n  you  to  pick 
out  a kitten,  mother,”  said  the  daughter 
handsomely,  and  we  went  on  in  peace  and 
harmony. 

The  house  was  just  before  us  now,  on  a 
green  level  that  looked  as  if  a huge  hand 
had  scooped  it  out  of  the  long  green  field 
we  had  been  ascending.  A little  way  above, 


GREEN  ISLAND. 


59 


the  dark  spruce  woods  began  to  climb  the 
top  of  the  hill  and  cover  the  seaward  slopes 
of  the  island.  There  was  just  room  for  the 
small  farm  and  the  forest ; we  looked  down 
at  the  fish-house  and  its  rough  sheds,  and 
the  weirs  stretching  far  out  into  the  water. 
As  we  looked  upward,  the  tops  of  the  firs 
came  sharp  against  the  blue  sky.  There 
was  a great  stretch  of  rough  pasture-land 
round  the  shoulder  of  the  island  to  the  east- 
ward, and  here  were  all  the  thick-scattered 
gray  rocks  that  kept  their  places,  and  the 
gray  backs  of  many  sheep  that  forever  wan- 
dered and  fed  on  the  thin  sweet  pasturage 
that  fringed  the  ledges  and  made  soft  hol- 
lows and  strips  of  green  turf  like  growing 
velvet.  I could  see  the  rich  green  of  bay- 
berry  bushes  here  and  there,  where  the  rocks 
made  room.  The  air  was  very  sweet ; one 
could  not  help  wishing  to  be  a citizen  of 
such  a complete  and  tiny  continent  and 
home  of  fisherfolk. 

The  house  was  broad  and  clean,  with  a 
roof  that  looked  heavy  on  its  low  walls.  It 
was  one  of  the  houses  that  seem  firm-rooted 
in  the  ground,  as  if  they  were  two-thirds 
below  the  surface,  like  icebergs.  The  front 
door  stood  hospitably  open  in  expectation  of 


60  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

company,  and  an  orderly  vine  grew  at  each 
side  ; but  our  path  led  to  the  kitchen  door 
at  the  house-end,  and  there  grew  a mass  of 
gay  flowers  and  greenery,  as  if  they  had 
been  swept  together  by  some  diligent  garden 
broom  into  a tangled  heap  : there  were  por- 
tulacas  all  along  under  the  lower  step  and 
straggling  off  into  the  grass,  and  clustering 
mallows  that  crept  as  near  as  they  dared, 
like  poor  relations.  I saw  the  bright  eyes 
and  brainless  little  heads  of  two  half-grown 
chickens  who  were  snuggled  down  among 
the  mallows  as  if  they  had  been  chased 
away  from  the  door  more  than  once,  and  ex- 
pected to  be  again. 

“ It  seems  kind  o’  formal  cornin’  in  this 
way,”  said  Mrs.  Todd  impulsively,  as  we 
passed  the  flowers  and  came  to  the  front 
doorstep  ; but  she  was  mindful  of  the  pro- 
prieties, and  walked  before  us  into  the  best 
room  on  the  left. 

“ Why,  mother,  if  you  have  n’t  gone  an’ 
turned  the  carpet ! ” she  exclaimed,  with 
something  in  her  voice  that  spoke  of  awe 
and  admiration.  “ When ’d  you  get  to  it  ? 
I s’pose  Mis’  Addicks  come  over  an’  helped 
you,  from  White  Island  Landing  ? ” 

“No,  she  didn’t,”  answered  the  old  wo- 


GREEN  ISLAND. 


61 


man,  standing  proudly  erect,  and  making 
the  most  of  a great  moment.  “ I done  it 
all  myself  with  William’s  help.  He  had  a 
spare  day,  an’  took  right  holt  with  me ; an’ 
’t  was  all  well  beat  on  the  grass,  an’  turned, 
an’  put  down  again  afore  we  went  to  bed. 
I ripped  an’  sewed  over  two  o’  them  long 
breadths.  I ain’t  had  such  a good  night’s 
sleep  for  two  years.” 

“ There,  what  do  you  think  o’  havin’ 
such  a mother  as  that  for  eighty-six  year 
old  ? ” said  Mrs.  Todd,  standing  before  us 
like  a large  figure  of  Victory. 

As  for  the  mother,  she  took  on  a sudden 
look  of  youth ; you  felt  as  if  she  promised  a 
great  future,  and  was  beginning,  not  ending, 
her  summers  and  their  happy  toils. 

“My,  my!”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Todd.  “I 
could  n’t  ha’  done  it  myself,  I ’ve  got  to 
own  it.” 

“ I was  much  pleased  to  have  it  off  my 
mind,”  said  Mrs.  Blackett,  humbly ; “ the 
more  so  because  along  at  the  first  of  the 
next  week  I was  n’t  very  well.  I suppose  it 
may  have  been  the  change  of  weather.” 

Mrs.  Todd  could  not  resist  a significant 
glance  at  me,  but,  with  charming  sympathy, 
she  forbore  to  point  the  lesson  or  to  connect 


62  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

this  illness  with  its  apparent  cause.  She 
loomed  larger  than  ever  in  the  little  old- 
fashioned  best  room,  with  its  few  pieces  of 
good  furniture  and  pictures  of  national  inter- 
est. The  green  paper  curtains  were  stamped 
with  conventional  landscapes  of  a foreign 
order, — castles  on  inaccessible  crags,  and 
lovely  lakes  with  steep  wooded  shores ; 
under-foot  the  treasured  carpet  was  covered 
thick  with  home-made  rugs.  There  were 
empty  glass  lamps  and  crystallized  bouquets 
of  grass  and  some  fine  shells  on  the  narrow 
mantelpiece. 

“ I was  married  in  this  room,”  said  Mrs. 
Todd  unexpectedly ; and  I heard  her  give  a 
sigh  after  she  had  spoken,  as  if  she  could 
not  help  the  touch  of  regret  that  would 
forever  come  with  all  her  thoughts  of  hap- 
piness. 

“ We  stood  right  there  between  the  win- 
dows,” she  added,  “ and  the  minister  stood 
here.  William  would  n’t  come  in.  He  was 
always  odd  about  seein’  folks,  just ’s  he  is 
now.  I run  to  meet  ’em  from  a child,  an’ 
William,  he ’d  take  an’  run  away.” 

“ I ’ve  been  the  gainer,”  said  the  old 
mother  cheerfully.  “ William  has  been  son 
an’  daughter  both  since  you  was  married  off 


GREEN  ISLAND . 


63 


the  island.  He ’s  been  ’most  too  satisfied  to 
stop  at  home  ’long  o’  his  old  mother,  but  I 
always  tell  ’em  I ’m  the  gainer.” 

We  were  all  moving  toward  the  kitchen 
as  if  by  common  instinct.  The  best  room 
was  too  suggestive  of  serious  occasions,  and 
the  shades  were  all  pulled  down  to  shut  out 
the  summer  light  and  air.  It  was  indeed  a 
tribute  to  Society  to  find  a room  set  apart 
for  her  behests  out  there  on  so  apparently 
neighborless  and  remote  an  island.  After- 
noon visits  and  evening  festivals  must  be 
few  in  such  a bleak  situation  at  certain  sea- 
sons of  the  year,  but  Mrs.  Blackett  was  of 
those  who  do  not  live  to  themselves,  and  who 
have  long  since  passed  the  line  that  divides 
mere  self-concern  from  a valued  share  in 
whatever  Society  can  give  and  take.  There 
were  those  of  her  neighbors  who  never  had 
taken  the  trouble  to  furnish  a best  room, 
but  Mrs.  Blackett  was  one  who  knew  the 
uses  of  a parlor. 

“ Yes,  do  come  right  out  into  the  old 
kitchen  ; I shan’t  make  any  stranger  of  you,” 
she  invited  us  pleasantly,  after  we  had  been 
properly  received  in  the  room  appointed  to 
formality.  “ I expect  Almiry,  here,  ’ll  be 
driftin’  out  ’mongst  the  pasture-weeds  quick ’s 


64  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 


she  can  find  a good  excuse.  ’T  is  hot  now. 
You ’d  better  content  yourselves  till  you  get 
nice  an’  rested,  an’  ’long  after  dinner  the 
sea-breeze  ’ll  spring  up,  an’  then  you  can 
take  your  walks,  an’  go  up  an’  see  the  pros- 
pect from  the  big  ledge.  Almiry  ’ll  want  to 
show  off  everything  there  is.  Then  I ’ll  get 
you  a good  cup  o’  tea  before  you  start  to  go 
home.  The  days  are  plenty  long  now.” 

While  we  were  talking  in  the  best  room 
the  selected  fish  had  been  mysteriously 
brought  up  from  the  shore,  and  lay  all 
cleaned  and  ready  in  an  earthen  crock  on 
the  table. 

“ I think  William  might  have  just  stopped 
an’  said  a word,”  remarked  Mrs.  Todd,  pout- 
ing with  high  affront  as  she  caught  sight  of 
it.  “ He ’s  friendly  enough  when  he  comes 
ashore,  an’  was  remarkable  social  the  last 
time,  for  him.” 

“ He  ain’t  disposed  to  be  very  social  with 
the  ladies,”  explained  William’s  mother, 
with  a delightful  glance  at  me,  as  if  she 
counted  upon  my  friendship  and  tolerance. 
“ He ’s  very  particular,  and  he ’s  all  in  his 
old  fishin’-clothes  to-day.  He  ’ll  want  me 
to  tell  him  everything  you  said  and  done, 
after  you  ’ve  gone.  William  has  very  deep 


GREEN  ISLAND . 


65 


affections.  He  ’ll  want  to  see  you,  Almiry. 
Yes,  I guess  lie  ’ll  be  in  by  an’  by.” 

66 1 ’ll  search  for  him  by  ’n’  by,  if  he 
don’t,”  proclaimed  Mrs.  Todd,  with  an  air 
of  unalterable  resolution.  “ I know  all  of 
his  burrows  down  ’long  the  shore.  I ’ll  catch 
him  by  hand  ’fore  he  knows  it.  I ’ve  got 
some  business  with  William,  anyway.  I 
brought  forty-two  cents  with  me  that  was 
due  him  for  them  last  lobsters  he  brought 
in.” 

“You  can  leave  it  with  me,”  suggested 
the  little  old  mother,  who  was  already  step- 
ping about  among  her  pots  and  pans  in  the 
pantry,  and  preparing  to  make  the  chowder. 

I became  possessed  of  a sudden  unwonted 
curiosity  in  regard  to  William,  and  felt  that 
half  the  pleasure  of  my  visit  would  be  lost 
if  I could  not  make  his  interesting  ac- 
quaintance. 


IX. 

WILLIAM. 

Mks.  Todd  had  taken  the  onion  out  of 
her  basket  and  laid  it  down  upon  the  kitchen 
table.  u There  ’s  Johnny  Bowden  come  with 
us,  you  know,”  she  reminded  her  mother. 
“ He  ’ll  be  hungry  enough  to  eat  his  size.” 

“ I ’ve  got  new  doughnuts,  dear,”  said  the 
little  old  lady.  u You  don’t  often  catch 
William  ’n’  me  out  o’  provisions.  I expect 
you  might  have  chose  a somewhat  larger 
fish,  but  I ’ll  try  an’  make  it  do.  I shall 
have  to  have  a few  extra  potatoes,  but 
there ’s  a field  full  out  there,  an’  the  hoe ’s 
leanin’  against  the  well-house,  in  ’mongst  the 
climbin’-beans.”  She  smiled,  and  gave  her 
daughter  a commanding  nod. 

“ Land  sakes  alive ! Le’  ’s  blow  the  horn 
for  William,”  insisted  Mrs.  Todd,  with  some 
excitement.  “ He  need  n’t  break  his  spirit 
so  far ’s  to  come  in.  He  ’ll  know  you  need 
him  for  something  particular,  an’  then  we 


WILLIAM.  67 

can  call  to  him  as  he  comes  up  the  path.  I 
won’t  put  him  to  no  pain.” 

Mrs.  Blackett’s  old  face,  for  the  first  time, 
wore  a look  of  trouble,  and  I found  it  neces- 
sary to  counteract  the  teasing  spirit  of  Al- 
mira. It  was  too  pleasant  to  stay  indoors 
altogether,  even  in  such  rewarding  com- 
panionship ; besides,  I might  meet  William; 
and,  straying  out  presently,  I found  the  hoe 
by  the  well-house  and  an  old  splint  basket 
at  the  woodshed  door,  and  also  found  my 
way  down  to  the  field  where  there  was  a 
great  square  patch  of  rough,  weedy  potato- 
tops  and  tall  ragweed.  One  corner  was 
already  dug,  and  I chose  a fat-looking  hill 
where  the  tops  were  well  withered.  There  is 
all  the  pleasure  that  one  can  have  in  gold- 
digging in  finding  one’s  hopes  satisfied  in 
the  riches  of  a good  hill  of  potatoes.  I 
longed  to  go  on  ; but  it  did  not  seem  frugal 
to  dig  any  longer  after  my  basket  was  full, 
and  at  last  I took  my  hoe  by  the  middle 
and  lifted  the  basket  to  go  back  up  the 
hill.  I was  sure  that  Mrs.  Blackett  must  be 
waiting  impatiently  to  slice  the  potatoes  into 
the  chowder,  layer  after  layer,  with  the 
fish. 

“ You  let  me  take  holt  o’  that  basket, 


68  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

ma’am,”  said  a pleasant,  anxious  voice 
behind  me. 

I turned,  startled  in  the  silence  of  the 
wide  field,  and  saw  an  elderly  man,  bent 
in  the  shoulders  as  fishermen  often  are, 
gray-headed  and  clean-shaven,  and  with  a 
timid  air.  It  was  William.  He  looked  just 
like  his  mother,  and  I had  been  imagining 
that  he  was  large  and  stout  like  his  sister, 
Almira  Todd ; and,  strange  to  say,  my  fancy 
had  led  me  to  picture  him  not  far  from 
thirty  and  a little  loutish.  It  was  necessary 
instead  to  pay  William  the  respect  due  to 
age. 

I accustomed  myself  to  plain  facts  on  the 
instant,  and  we  said  good-morning  like  old 
friends.  The  basket  was  really  heavy,  and 
I put  the  hoe  through  its  handle  and  offered 
him  one  end  ; then  we  moved  easily  toward 
the  house  together,  speaking  of  the  fine 
weather  and  of  mackerel  which  were  re- 
ported to  be  striking  in  all  about  the  bay. 
William  had  been  out  since  three  o’clock, 
and  had  taken  an  extra  fare  of  fish.  I could 
feel  that  Mrs.  Todd’s  eyes  were  upon  us  as 
we  approached  the  house,  and  although  I 
fell  behind  in  the  narrow  path,  and  let  Wil- 
liam take  the  basket  alone  and  precede  me 


WILLIAM.  69 

at  some  little  distance  the  rest  of  the  way,  I 
could  plainly  hear  her  greet  him. 

“ Got  round  to  cornin’  in,  did  n’t  you  ? ” 
she  inquired,  with  amusement.  “ Well,  now, 
that ’s  clever.  Did  n’t  know ’s  I should  see 
you  to-day,  William,  an’  I wanted  to  settle 
an  account.” 

I felt  somewhat  disturbed  and  responsi- 
ble, but  when  I joined  them  they  were  on 
most  simple  and  friendly  terms.  It  became 
evident  that,  with  William,  it  was  the  first 
step  that  cost,  and  that,  having  once  joined 
in  social  interests,  he  was  able  to  pursue 
them  with  more  or  less  pleasure.  He  was 
about  sixty,  and  not  young-looking  for  his 
years,  yet  so  undying  is  the  spirit  of  youth, 
and  bashfulness  has  such  a power  of  sur- 
vival, that  I felt  all  the  time  as  if  one  must 
try  to  make  the  occasion  easy  for  some  one 
who  was  young  and  new  to  the  affairs  of  so- 
cial life.  He  asked  politely  if  I would  like 
to  go  up  to  the  great  ledge  while  dinner  was 
getting  ready ; so,  not  without  a deep  sense 
of  pleasure,  and  a delighted  look  of  surprise 
from  the  two  hostesses,  we  started,  William 
and  I,  as  if  both  of  us  felt  much  younger 
than  we  looked.  Such  was  the  innocence 
and  simplicity  of  the  moment  that  when  I 


70  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

heard  Mrs.  Todd  laughing  behind  us  in  the 
kitchen  I laughed  too,  but  William  did  not 
even  blush.  I think  he  was  a little  deaf, 
and  he  stepped  along  before  me  most  busi- 
nesslike and  intent  upon  his  errand. 

We  went  from  the  upper  edge  of  the  field 
above  the  house  into  a smooth,  brown  path 
among  the  dark  spruces.  The  hot  sun 
brought  out  the  fragrance  of  the  pitchy 
bark,  and  the  shade  was  pleasant  as  we 
climbed  the  hill.  William  stopped  once  or 
twice  to  show  me  a great  wasps’-nest  close 
by,  or  some  fishhawks’-nests  below  in  a bit 
of  swamp.  He  picked  a few  sprigs  of  late- 
blooming  linnsea  as  we  came  out  upon  an 
open  bit  of  pasture  at  the  top  of  the  island, 
and  gave  them  to  me  without  speaking,  but 
he  knew  as  well  as  I that  one  could  not  say 
half  he  wished  about  linnaea.  Through  this 
piece  of  rough  pasture  ran  a huge  shape  of 
stone  like  the  great  backbone  of  an  enor- 
mous creature.  At  the  end,  near  the  woods, 
we  could  climb  up  on  it  and  walk  along  to 
the  highest  point ; there  above  the  circle  of 
pointed  firs  we  could  look  down  over  all  the 
island,  and  could  see  the  ocean  that  circled 
this  and  a hundred  other  bits  of  island- 
ground,  the  mainland  shore  and  all  the  far 


WILLIAM . 


71 


horizons.  It  gave  a sudden  sense  of  space, 
for  nothing  stopped  the  eye  or  hedged  one 
in,  — that  sense  of  liberty  in  space  and  time 
which  great  prospects  always  give. 

“ There  ain’t  no  such  view  in  the  world, 
I expect,”  said  William  proudly,  and  I has- 
tened to  speak  my  heartfelt  tribute  of  praise; 
it  was  impossible  not  to  feel  as  if  an  un- 
traveled boy  had  spoken,  and  yet  one  loved 
to  have  him  value  his  native  heath. 


WHERE  PENNYROYAL  GREW. 


We  were  a little  late  to  dinner,  but  Mrs. 
Blackett  and  Mrs.  Todd  were  lenient,  and 
we  all  took  our  places  after  William  had 
paused  to  wash  his  hands,  like  a pious  Brah- 
min, at  the  well,  and  put  on  a neat  blue  coat 
which  he  took  from  a peg  behind  the  kitchen 
door.  Then  he  resolutely  asked  a blessing 
in  words  that  I could  not  hear,  and  we  ate 
the  chowder  and  were  thankful.  The  kitten 
went  round  and  round  the  table,  quite  erect, 
and,  holding  on  by  her  fierce  young  claws, 
she  stopped  to  mew  with  pathos  at  each 
elbow,  or  darted  off  to  the  open  door  when 
a song  sparrow  forgot  himself  and  lit  in  the 
grass  too  near.  William  did  not  talk  much, 
but  his  sister  Todd  occupied  the  time  and 
told  all  the  news  there  was  to  tell  of  Dunnet 
Landing  and  its  coasts,  while  the  old  mother 
listened  with  delight.  Her  hospitality  was 
something  exquisite ; she  had  the  gift  which 


WHERE  PENNYROYAL  GREW.  73 

so  many  women  lack,  of  being  able  to  make 
themselves  and  their  houses  belong  entirely 
to  a guest’s  pleasure,  — that  charming  sur- 
render for  the  moment  of  themselves  and 
whatever  belongs  to  them,  so  that  they  make 
a part  of  one’s  own  life  that  can  never  be 
forgotten.  Tact  is  after  all  a kind  of  mind- 
reading, and  my  hostess  held  the  golden 
gift.  Sympathy  is  of  the  mind  as  well  as 
the  heart,  and  Mrs.  Blackett’s  world  and 
mine  were  one  from  the  moment  we  met. 
Besides,  she  had  that  final,  that  highest 
gift  of  heaven,  a perfect  self-forgetfulness. 
Sometimes,  as  I watched  her  eager,  sweet 
old  face,  I wondered  why  she  had  been  set 
to  shine  on  this  lonely  island  of  the  north- 
ern coast.  It  must  have  been  to  keep  the 
balance  true,  and  make  up  to  all  her  scat- 
tered and  depending  neighbors  for  other 
things  which  they  may  have  lacked. 

When  we  had  finished  clearing  away  the 
old  blue  plates,  and  the  kitten  had  taken 
care  of  her  share  of  the  fresh  haddock,  just 
as  we  were  putting  back  the  kitchen  chairs 
in  their  places,  Mrs.  Todd  said  briskly  that 
she  must  go  up  into  the  pasture  now  to 
gather  the  desired  herbs. 

66  You  can  stop  here  an’  rest,  or  you  can 


74  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

accompany  me,”  she  announced.  “ Mother 
ought  to  have  her  nap,  and  when  we  come 
back  she  an’  William  ’ll  sing  for  you.  She 
admires  music,”  said  Mrs.  Todd,  turning  to 
speak  to  her  mother. 

But  Mrs.  Blackett  tried  to  say  that  she 
could  n’t  sing  as  she  used,  and  perhaps  Wil- 
liam would  n’t  feel  like  it.  She  looked 
tired,  the  good  old  soul,  or  I should  have 
liked  to  sit  in  the  peaceful  little  house  while 
she  slept ; I had  had  much  pleasant  experi- 
ence of  pastures  already  in  her  daughter’s 
company.  But  it  seemed  best  to  go  with 
Mrs.  Todd,  and  off  we  went. 

Mrs.  Todd  carried  the  gingham  bag  which 
she  had  brought  from  home,  and  a small 
heavy  burden  in  the  bottom  made  it  hang 
straight  and  slender  from  her  hand.  The 
way  was  steep,  and  she  soon  grew  breathless, 
so  that  we  sat  down  to  rest  awhile  on  a con- 
venient large  stone  among  the  bayberry. 

“ There,  I wanted  you  to  see  this,  — ’t  is 
mother’s  picture,”  said  Mrs.  Todd;  “’t  was 
taken  once  when  she  was  up  to  Portland,  soon 
after  she  was  married.  That ’s  me,”  she 
added,  opening  another  worn  case,  and  dis- 
playing the  full  face  of  the  cheerful  child  she 
looked  like  still  in  spite  of  being  past  sixty. 


WHERE  PENNYROYAL  GREW . 


75 


“ And  here ’s  William  an’  father  together. 
I take  after  father,  large  and  heavy,  an’ 
William  is  like  mother’s  folks,  short  an? 
thin.  He  ought  to  have  made  something  o’ 
himself,  bein’  a man  an’  so  like  mother;  but 
though  he ’s  been  very  steady  to  work,  an’ 
kept  up  the  farm,  an’  done  his  fishin’  too 
right  along,  he  never  had  mother’s  snap  an’ 
power  o’  seein’  things  just  as  they  be.  He ’s 
got  excellent  judgment,  too,”  meditated  Wil- 
liam’s sister,  but  she  could  not  arrive  at 
any  satisfactory  decision  upon  what  she  evi- 
dently thought  his  failure  in  life.  “ I think 
it  is  well  to  see  any  one  so  happy  an’  makin’ 
the  most  of  life  just  as  it  falls  to  hand,”  she 
said  as  she  began  to  put  the  daguerreotypes 
away  again  ; but  I reached  out  my  hand  to 
see  her  mother’s  once  more,  a most  flower- 
like face  of  a lovely  young  woman  in  quaint 
dress.  There  was  in  the  eyes  a look  of  an- 
ticipation and  joy,  a far-off  look  that  sought 
the  horizon ; one  often  sees  it  in  seafaring 
families,  inherited  by  girls  and  boys  alike 
from  men  who  spend  their  lives  at  sea,  and 
are  always  watching  for  distant  sails  or  the 
first  loom  of  the  land.  At  sea  there  is  no- 
thing to  be  seen  close  by,  and  this  has  its 
counterpart  in  a sailor’s  character,  in  the 


76  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

large  and  brave  and  patient  traits  that  are 
developed,  the  hopeful  pleasantness  that  one 
loves  so  in  a seafarer. 

When  the  family  pictures  were  wrapped 
again  in  a big  handkerchief,  we  set  forward 
in  a narrow  footpath  and  made  our  way  to 
a lonely  place  that  faced  northward,  where 
there  was  more  pasturage  and  fewer  bushes, 
and  we  went  down  to  the  edge  of  short  grass 
above  some  rocky  cliffs  where  the  deep  sea 
broke  with  a great  noise,  though  the  wind 
was  down  and  the  water  looked  quiet  a little 
way  from  shore.  Among  the  grass  grew 
such  pennyroyal  as  the  rest  of  the  world 
could  not  provide.  There  was  a fine  fra- 
grance in  the  air  as  we  gathered  it  sprig  by 
sprig  and  stepped  along  carefully,  and  Mrs. 
Todd  pressed  her  aromatic  nosegay  between 
her  hands  and  offered  it  to  me  again  and 
again. 

u There ’s  nothin’  like  it,”  she  said  ; 44  oh 
no,  there ’s  no  such  pennyr’yal  as  this  in  the 
State  of  Maine.  It ’s  the  right  pattern  of 
the  plant,  and  all  the  rest  I ever  see  is  but 
an  imitation.  Don’t  it  do  you  good  ? ” And 
I answered  with  enthusiasm. 

44  There,  dear,  I never  showed  nobody  else 
but  mother  where  to  find  this  place ; ’t  is 


WHERE  PENNYROYAL  GREW.  77 

kind  of  sainted  to  me.  Nathan,  my  hus- 
band, an’  I used  to  love  this  place  when  we 
was  courtin’,  and  ” — she  hesitated,  and  then 
spoke  softly  — “when  he  was  lost,  ’t  was 
just  off  shore  tryin’  to  get  in  by  the  short 
channel  out  there  between  Squaw  Islands, 
right  in  sight  o’  this  headland  where  we ’d 
set  an’  made  our  plans  all  summer  long.” 

I had  never  heard  her  speak  of  her  hus- 
band before,  but  I felt  that  we  were  friends 
now  since  she  had  brought  me  to  this  place. 

“ ’T  was  but  a dream  with  us,”  Mrs. 
Todd  said.  “ I knew  it  when  he  was  gone. 
I knew  it  ” — and  she  whispered  as  if  she 
were  at  confession  — “I  knew  it  afore  he 
started  to  go  to  sea.  My  heart  was  gone 
out  o’  my  keepin’  before  I ever  saw  Nathan  ; 
but  he  loved  me  well,  and  he  made  me  real 
happy,  and  he  died  before  he  ever  knew 
what  he ’d  had  to  know  if  we ’d  lived  long  to- 
gether. ’T  is  very  strange  about  love.  No, 
Nathan  never  found  out,  but  my  heart  was 
troubled  when  I knew  him  first.  There ’s 
more  women  likes  to  be  loved  than  there  is 
of  those  that  loves.  I spent  some  happy 
hours  right  here.  I always  liked  Nathan, 
and  he  never  knew.  But  this  pennyr’yal 
always  reminded  me,  as  I ’d  sit  and  gather 


78  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

it  and  hear  him  talkin’  — it  always  would 
remind  me  of  — the  other  one.” 

She  looked  away  from  me,  and  presently 
rose  and  went  on  by  herself.  There  was 
something  lonely  and  solitary  about  her 
great  determined  shape.  She  might  have 
been  Antigone  alone  on  the  Theban  plain. 
It  is  not  often  given  in  a noisy  world  to  come 
to  the  places  of  great  grief  and  silence.  An 
absolute,  archaic  grief  possessed  this  country- 
woman ; she  seemed  like  a renewal  of  some 
historic  soul,  with  her  sorrows  and  the  re- 
moteness of  a daily  life  busied  with  rustic 
simplicities  and  the  scents  of  primeval  herbs. 

I was  not  incompetent  at  herb-gathering, 
and  after  a while,  when  I had  sat  long  enough 
waking  myself  to  new  thoughts,  and  reading 
a page  of  remembrance  with  new  pleasure, 
I gathered  some  bunches,  as  I was  bound 
to  do,  and  at  last  we  met  again  higher  up 
the  shore,  in  the  plain  every-day  world  we 
had  left  behind  when  we  went  down  to  the 
pennyroyal  plot.  As  we  walked  together 
along  the  high  edge  of  the  field  we  saw  a 
hundred  sails  about  the  bay  and  farther  sea- 
ward ; it  was  mid-afternoon  or  after,  and  the 
day  was  coming  to  an  end. 


WHERE  PENNYROYAL  GREW.  79 

“ Yes,  they  ’re  all  makin’  towards  the 
shore,  — the  small  craft  an’  the  lobster 
smacks  an’  all,”  said  my  companion.  “ We 
must  spend  a little  time  with  mother  now, 
just  to  have  our  tea,  an’  then  put  for  home.” 

“ No  matter  if  we  lose  the  wind  at  sun- 
down ; I can  row  in  with  Johnny,”  said  I; 
and  Mrs.  Todd  nodded  reassuringly  and  kept 
to  her  steady  plod,  not  quickening  her  gait 
even  when  we  saw  William  come  round  the 
corner  of  the  house  as  if  to  look  for  us,  and 
wave  his  hand  and  disappear. 

“ Why,  William ’s  right  on  deck ; I did  n’t 
know ’s  we  should  see  any  more  of  him ! ” 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Todd.  “ Now  mother  ’ll  put 
the  kettle  right  on ; she ’s  got  a good  fire 
goin’.”  I too  could  see  the  blue  smoke 
thicken,  and  then  we  both  walked  a little 
faster,  while  Mrs.  Todd  groped  in  her  full 
bag  of  herbs  to  find  the  daguerreotypes  and 
be  ready  to  put  them  in  their  places. 


XL 

THE  OLD  SINGERS. 

William  was  sitting  on  the  side  door  step, 
and  the  old  mother  was  busy  making  her 
tea  ; she  gave  into  my  hand  an  old  flowered- 
glass  tea-caddy. 

“ William  thought  you  ’d  like  to  see  this, 
when  he  was  settin’  the  table.  My  father 
brought  it  to  my  mother  from  the  island  of 
Tobago ; an’  here ’s  a pair  of  beautiful  mugs 
that  came  with  it.”  She  opened  the  glass 
door  of  a little  cupboard  beside  the  chimney. 
“ These  I call  my  best  things,  dear,”  she 
said.  “ You’d  laugh  to  see  how  we  enjoy 
’em  Sunday  nights  in  winter:  we  have  a 
real  company  tea  ’stead  o’  livin’  right  along 
just  the  same,  an’  I make  somethin’  good 
for  a s’prise  an’  put  on  some  o’  my  preserves, 
an’  we  get  a-talkin’  together  an’  have  real 
pleasant  times.” 

Mrs.  Todd  laughed  indulgently,  and  looked 
to  see  what  I thought  of  such  childishness. 


THE  OLD  SINGLES.  81 

“ I wish  I could  be  here  some  Sunday 
evening,”  said  I. 

“ William  an’  me  ’ll  be  talkin’  about  you 
an’  thinkin’  o’  this  nice  day,”  said  Mrs. 
Blackett  affectionately,  and  she  glanced  at 
William,  and  he  looked  up  bravely  and 
nodded.  I began  to  discover  that  he  and 
his  sister  could  not  speak  their  deeper  feel- 
ings before  each  other. 

“Now  I want  you  an’  mother  to  sing,” 
said  Mrs.  Todd  abruptly,  with  an  air  of 
command,  and  I gave  William  much  sym- 
pathy in  his  evident  distress. 

“ After  I ’ve  had  my  cup  o’  tea,  dear,” 
answered  the  old  hostess  cheerfully ; and  so 
we  sat  down  and  took  our  cups  and  made 
merry  while  they  lasted.  It  was  impossible 
not  to  wish  to  stay  on  forever  at  Green 
Island,  and  I could  not  help  saying  so. 

“ I ’m  very  happy  here,  both  winter  an’ 
summer,”  said  old  Mrs.  Blackett.  “ William 
an’  I never  wish  for  any  other  home,  do  we, 
William?  I ’m  glad  you  find  it  pleasant; 
I wish  you ’d  come  an’  stay,  dear,  whenever 
you  feel  inclined.  But  here ’s  Almiry  ; I 
always  think  Providence  was  kind  to  plot  an’ 
have  her  husband  leave  her  a good  house 
where  she  really  belonged.  She ’d  been  very 


82  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

restless  if  she ’d  had  to  continue  here  on 
Green  Island.  You  wanted  more  scope, 
did  n’t  you,  Almiry,  an’  to  live  in  a large 
place  where  more  things  grew  ? Sometimes 
folks  wonders  that  we  don’t  live  together ; 
perhaps  we  shall  some  time,”  and  a shadow 
of  sadness  and  apprehension  flitted  across 
her  face.  “ The  time  o’  sickness  an’  failin’ 
has  got  to  come  to  all.  But  Almiry  ’s  got  an 
herb  that ’s  good  for  everything.”  She  smiled 
as  she  spoke,  and  looked  bright  again. 

“ There ’s  some  herb  that ’s  good  for 
everybody,  except  for  them  that  thinks 
they  ’re  sick  when  they  ain’t,”  announced 
Mrs.  Todd,  with  a truly  professional  air  of 
finality.  “ Come,  William,  let ’s  have  Sweet 
Home,  an’  then  mother  ’ll  sing  Cupid  an’  the 
Bee  for  us.” 

Then  followed  a most  charming  surprise. 
William  mastered  his  timidity  and  began  to 
sing.  His  voice  was  a little  faint  and  frail, 
like  the  family  daguerreotypes,  but  it  was  a 
tenor  voice,  and  perfectly  true  and  sweet.  I 
have  never  heard  Home,  Sweet  Home  sung 
as  touchingly  and  seriously  as  he  sang  it ; 
he  seemed  to  make  it  quite  new ; and  when 
he  paused  for  a moment  at  the  end  of  the 
first  line  and  began  the  next,  the  old  mother 


THE  OLD  SINGERS . 


83 


joined  him  and  they  sang  together,  she  miss- 
ing only  the  higher  notes,  where  he  seemed 
to  lend  his  voice  to  hers  for  the  moment  and 
carry  on  her  very  note  and  air.  It  was  the 
silent  man’s  real  and  only  means  of  expres- 
sion, and  one  could  have  listened  forever, 
and  have  asked  for  more  and  more  songs  of 
old  Scotch  and  English  inheritance  and  the 
best  that  have  lived  from  the  ballad  music 
of  the  war.  Mrs.  Todd  kept  time  visibly, 
and  sometimes  audibly,  with  her  ample  foot. 
I saw  the  tears  in  her  eyes  sometimes,  when 
I could  see  beyond  the  tears  in  mine.  But 
at  last  the  songs  ended  and  the  time  came 
to  say  good-by  ; it  was  the  end  of  a great 
pleasure. 

Mrs.  Blackett,  the  dear  old  lady,  opened 
the  door  of  her  bedroom  while  Mrs.  Todd 
was  tying  up  the  herb  bag,  and  William  had 
gone  down  to  get  the  boat  ready  and  to  blow 
the  horn  for  Johnny  Bowden,  who  had 
joined  a roving  boat  party  who  were  off  the 
shore  lobstering. 

I went  to  the  door  of  the  bedroom,  and 
thought  how  pleasant  it  looked,  with  its 
pink-and-white  patchwork  quilt  and  the 
brown  unpainted  paneling  of  its  woodwork. 

44  Come  right  in,  dear,”  she  said.  44 1 want 


84  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

you  to  set  down  in  my  old  quilted  rockin’- 
chair  there  by  the  window ; you  ’ll  say  it ’s 
the  prettiest  view  in  the  house.  I set  there 
a good  deal  to  rest  me  and  when  I want  to 
read.” 

There  was  a worn  red  Bible  on  the  light- 
stand,  and  Mrs.  Blackett’s  heavy  silver- 
bowed  glasses  ; her  thimble  was  on  the  nar- 
row window-ledge,  and  folded  carefully  on 
the  table  was  a thick  striped-cotton  shirt 
that  she  was  making  for  her  son.  Those 
dear  old  fingers  and  their  loving  stitches, 
that  heart  which  had  made  the  most  of 
everything  that  needed  love  ! Here  was  the 
real  home,  the  heart  of  the  old  house  on 
Green  Island  ! I sat  in  the  rocking-chair, 
and  felt  that  it  was  a place  of  peace,  the 
little  brown  bedroom,  and  the  quiet  outlook 
upon  field  and  sea  and  sky. 

I looked  up,  and  we  understood  each  other 
without  speaking.  “ I shall  like  to  think  o’ 
your  settin’  here  to-day,”  said  Mrs.  Black- 
ett. “I  want  you  to  come  again.  It  has 
been  so  pleasant  for  William.” 

The  wind  served  us  all  the  way  home,  and 
did  not  fall  or  let  the  sail  slacken  until  we 
were  close  to  the  shore.  We  had  a generous 
freight  of  lobsters  in  the  boat,  and  new  po- 


THE  OLD  SINGERS . 


85 


tatoes  which  William  had  put  aboard,  and 
what  Mrs.  Todd  proudly  called  a full  “ kag  ” 
of  prime  number  one  salted  mackerel ; and 
when  we  landed  we  had  to  make  business 
arrangements  to  have  these  conveyed  to  her 
house  in  a wheelbarrow. 

I never  shall  forget  the  day  at  Green 
Island.  The  town  of  Dunnet  Landing 
seemed  large  and  noisy  and  oppressive  as 
we  came  ashore.  Such  is  the  power  of  con- 
trast ; for  the  village  was  so  still  that  I could 
hear  the  shy  whippoorwills  singing  that 
night  as  I lay  awake  in  my  downstairs  bed- 
room, and  the  scent  of  Mrs.  Todd’s  herb 
garden  under  the  window  blew  in  again  and 
again  with  every  gentle  rising  of  the  sea- 
breeze. 


A STRANGE  SAIL. 


Except  for  a few  stray  guests,  islanders 
or  from  the  inland  country,  to  whom  Mrs. 
Todd  offered  the  hospitalities  of  a single 
meal,  we  were  quite  by  ourselves  all  sum- 
mer ; and  when  there  were  signs  of  invasion, 
late  in  July,  and  a certain  Mrs.  Fosdick  ap- 
peared like  a strange  sail  on  the  far  hori- 
zon, I suffered  much  from  apprehension.  I 
had  been  living  in  the  quaint  little  house 
with  as  much  comfort  and  unconsciousness 
as  if  it  were  a larger  body,  or  a double  shell, 
in  whose  simple  convolutions  Mrs.  Todd 
and  I had  secreted  ourselves,  until  some 
wandering  hermit  crab  of  a visitor  marked 
the  little  spare  room  for  her  own.  Perhaps 
now  and  then  a castaway  on  a lonely  desert 
island  dreads  the  thought  of  being  rescued. 
I heard  of  Mrs.  Fosdick  for  the  first  time 
with  a selfish  sense  of  objection  ; but  after 
all,  I was  still  vacation-tenant  of  the  school- 


A STRANGE  SAIL. 


87 


house,  where  I could  always  be  alone,  and 
it  was  impossible  not  to  sympathize  with 
Mrs.  Todd,  who,  in  spite  of  some  prelimi- 
nary grumbling,  was  really  delighted  with 
the  prospect  of  entertaining  an  old  friend. 

For  nearly  a month  we  received  occa- 
sional news  of  Mrs.  Fosdick,  who  seemed  to 
be  making  a royal  progress  from  house  to 
house  in  the  inland  neighborhood,  after  the 
fashion  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  One  Sunday 
after  another  came  and  went,  disappointing 
Mrs.  Todd  in  the  hope  of  seeing  her  guest 
at  church  and  fixing  the  day  for  the  great 
visit  to  begin ; but  Mrs.  Fosdick  was  not 
ready  to  commit  herself  to  a date.  An  as- 
surance of  “ some  time  this  week  ” was  not 
sufficiently  definite  from  a free-footed  house- 
keeper’s point  of  view,  and  Mrs.  Todd  put 
aside  all  herb-gathering  plans,  and  went 
through  the  various  stages  of  expectation, 
provocation,  and  despair.  At  last  she  was 
ready  to  believe  that  Mrs.  Fosdick  must 
have  forgotten  her  promise  and  returned  to 
her  home,  which  was  vaguely  said  to  be  over 
Thomaston  way.  But  one  evening,  just  as 
the  supper-table  was  cleared  and  “ readied 
up,”  and  Mrs.  Todd  had  put  her  large  apron 
over  her  head  and  stepped  forth  for  an  even- 


88  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

ing  stroll  in  the  garden,  the  unexpected  hap- 
pened. She  heard  the  sound  of  wheels,  and 
gave  an  excited  cry  to  me,  as  I sat  by  the 
window,  that  Mrs.  Fosdick  was  coming  right 
up  the  street. 

“ She  may  not  be  considerate,  but  she ’s 
dreadful  good  company,”  said  Mrs.  Todd 
hastily,  coming  back  a few  steps  from  the 
neighborhood  of  the  gate.  “ No,  she  ain’t 
a mite  considerate,  but  there ’s  a small  lob- 
ster left  over  from  your  tea  ; yes,  it ’s  a real 
mercy  there  ’s  a lobster.  Susan  Fosdick 
might  just  as  well  have  passed  the  compli- 
ment o’  cornin’  an  hour  ago.” 

“ Perhaps  she  has  had  her  supper,”  I 
ventured  to  suggest,  sharing  the  house- 
keeper’s anxiety,  and  meekly  conscious  of 
an  inconsiderate  appetite  for  my  own  supper 
after  a long  expedition  up  the  bay.  There 
were  so  few  emergencies  of  any  sort  at 
Dunnet  Landing  that  this  one  appeared 
overwhelming. 

“ No,  she ’s  rode  ’way  over  from  Nahum 
Brayton’s  place.  I expect  they  were  busy 
on  the  farm,  and  could  n’t  spare  the  horse 
in  proper  season.  You  just  sly  out  an’  set 
the  teakittle  on  again,  dear,  an’  drop  in  a 
good  han’f  ul  o’  chips ; the  fire ’s  all  alive. 


A STRANGE  SAIL. 


89 


I ’ll  take  lier  right  up  to  lay  off  her  things, 
an’  she  ’ll  be  occupied  with  explanations  an’ 
gettin’  her  bunnit  off,  so  you  ’ll  have  plenty 
o’  time.  She ’s  one  I should  n’t  like  to  have 
find  me  unprepared.” 

Mrs.  Fosdick  was  already  at  the  gate,  and 
Mrs.  Todd  now  turned  with  an  air  of  com- 
plete surprise  and  delight  to  welcome  her. 

“ Why,  Susan  Fosdick,”  I heard  her  ex- 
claim in  a fine  unhindered  voice,  as  if  she 
were  calling  across  a field,  “ I come  near  giv- 
ing of  you  up ! I was  afraid  you ’d  gone 
an’  ’portioned  out  my  visit  to  somebody  else. 
I s’pose  you ’ve  been  to  supper?  ” 

“ Lor’,  no,  I ain’t,  Almiry  Todd,”  said 
Mrs.  Fosdick  cheerfully,  as  she  turned,  laden 
with  bags  and  bundles,  from  making  her 
adieux  to  the  boy  driver.  “ I ain’t  had  a 
mite  o’  supper,  dear.  I ’ve  been  lottin’  all 
the  way  on  a cup  o’  that  best  tea  o’  yourn, 
— some  o’  that  Oolong  you  keep  in  the  little 
chist.  I don’t  want  none  o’  your  useful 
herbs.” 

“ I keep  that  tea  for  ministers’  folks,” 
gayly  responded  Mrs.  Todd.  “ Come  right 
along  in,  Susan  Fosdick.  I declare  if  you 
ain’t  the  same  old  sixpence ! ” 

As  they  came  up  the  walk  together,  laugh** 


90  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

ing  like  girls,  I fled,  full  of  cares,  to  the 
kitchen,  to  brighten  the  fire  and  be  sure  that 
the  lobster,  sole  dependence  of  a late  sup- 
per, was  well  out  of  reach  of  the  cat.  There 
proved  to  be  fine  reserves  of  wild  raspber- 
ries and  bread  and  butter,  so  that  I regained 
my  composure,  and  waited  impatiently  for 
my  own  share  of  this  illustrious  visit  to 
begin.  There  was  an  instant  sense  of  high 
festivity  in  the  evening  air  from  the  moment 
when  our  guest  had  so  frankly  demanded 
the  Oolong  tea. 

The  great  moment  arrived.  I was  for- 
mally presented  at  the  stair-foot,  and  the 
two  friends  passed  on  to  the  kitchen,  where 
I soon  heard  a hospitable  clink  of  crockery 
and  the  brisk  stirring  of  a tea-cup.  I sat  in 
my  high-backed  rocking-chair  by  the  win- 
dow in  the  front  room  with  an  unreasonable 
feeling  of  being  left  out,  like  the  child  who 
stood  at  the  gate  in  Hans  Andersen’s  story. 
Mrs.  Fosdick  did  not  look,  at  first  sight, 
like  a person  of  great  social  gifts.  She  was 
a serious-looking  little  bit  of  an  old  woman, 
with  a birdlike  nod  of  the  head.  I had 
often  been  told  that  she  was  the  “ best  hand 
in  the  world  to  make  a visit,”  — as  if  to 
visit  were  the  highest  of  vocations ; that 


A STRANGE  SAIL . 


91 


everybody  wished  for  her,  while  few  could 
get  her ; and  I saw  that  Mrs.  Todd  felt 
a comfortable  sense  of  distinction  in  being 
favored  with  the  company  of  this  eminent 
person  who  “ knew  just  how.”  It  was  cer- 
tainly true  that  Mrs.  Fosdick  gave  both  her 
hostess  and  me  a warm  feeling  of  enjoyment 
and  expectation,  as  if  she  had  the  power  of 
social  suggestion  to  all  neighboring  minds. 

The  two  friends  did  not  reappear  for  at 
least  an  hour.  I could  hear  their  busy  voices, 
loud  and  low  by  turns,  as  they  ranged  from 
public  to  confidential  topics.  At  last  Mrs. 
Todd  kindly  remembered  me  and  returned, 
giving  my  door  a ceremonious  knock  before 
she  stepped  in,  with  the  small  visitor  in  her 
wake.  She  reached  behind  her  and  took 
Mrs.  Fosdick’s  hand  as  if  she  were  young 
and  bashful,  and  gave  her  a gentle  pull  for- 
ward. 

“ There,  I don’t  know  whether  you  ’re 
goin’  to  take  to  each  other  or  not ; no,  no- 
body can’t  tell  whether  you  ’ll  suit  each 
other,  but  I expect  you  ’ll  get  along  some 
way,  both  having  seen  the  world,”  said  our 
affectionate  hostess.  “ You  can  inform  Mis’ 
Fosdick  how  we  found  the  folks  out  to  Green 
Island  the  other  day.  She ’s  always  been 


92  COUNTRY  OF  TEE  POINTED  FIRS . 

well  acquainted  with  mother.  I ’ll  slip  out 
now  an’  put  away  the  supper  things  an’  set 
my  bread  to  rise,  if  you  ’ll  both  excuse  me. 
You  can  come  out  an’  keep  me  company 
when  you  get  ready,  either  or  both.”  And 
Mrs.  Todd,  large  and  amiable,  disappeared 
and  left  us. 

Being  furnished  not  only  with  a subject 
of  conversation,  but  with  a safe  refuge  in 
the  kitchen  in  case  of  incompatibility,  Mrs. 
Fosdick  and  I sat  down,  prepared  to  make 
the  best  of  each  other.  I soon  discovered 
that  she,  like  many  of  the  elder  women  of 
that  coast,  had  spent  a part  of  her  life  at 
sea,  and  was  full  of  a good  traveler’s  curi- 
osity and  enlightenment.  By  the  time  we 
thought  it  discreet  to  join  our  hostess  we 
were  already  sincere  friends. 

You  may  speak  of  a visit’s  setting  in  as 
well  as  a tide’s,  and  it  was  impossible,  as 
Mrs.  Todd  whispered  to  me,  not  to  be  pleased 
at  the  way  this  visit  was  setting  in  ; a new 
impulse  and  refreshing  of  the  social  cur- 
rents and  seldom  visited  bays  of  memory 
appeared  to  have  begun.  Mrs.  Fosdick  had 
been  the  mother  of  a large  family  of  sons 
and  daughters,  — sailors  and  sailors’  wives, 
— and  most  of  them  had  died  before  her. 


A STRANGE  SAIL. 


93 


I soon  grew  more  or  less  acquainted  with 
the  histories  of  all  their  fortunes  and  mis- 
fortunes, and  subjects  of  an  intimate  nature 
were  no  more  withheld  from  my  ears  than  if 
I had  been  a shell  on  the  mantelpiece.  Mrs. 
Fosdick  was  not  without  a touch  of  dignity 
and  elegance ; she  was  fashionable  in  her 
dress,  but  it  was  a curiously  well-preserved 
provincial  fashion  of  some  years  back.  In 
a wider  sphere  one  might  have  called  her  a 
woman  of  the  world,  with  her  unexpected 
bits  of  modern  knowledge,  but  Mrs.  Todd’s 
wisdom  was  an  intimation  of  truth  itself. 
She  might  belong  to  any  age,  like  an  idyl  of 
Theocritus ; but  while  she  always  understood 
Mrs.  Fosdick,  that  entertaining  pilgrim  could 
not  always  understand  Mrs.  Todd. 

That  very  first  evening  my  friends  plunged 
into  a borderless  sea  of  reminiscences  and 
personal  news.  Mrs.  Fosdick  had  been  stay- 
ing with  a family  who  owned  the  farm 
where  she  was  born,  and  she  had  visited 
every  sunny  knoll  and  shady  field  corner; 
but  when  she  said  that  it  might  be  for  the 
last  time,  I detected  in  her  tone  something 
expectant  of  the  contradiction  which  Mrs. 
Todd  promptly  offered. 


94  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 


“ Almiry,”  said  Mrs.  Fosdick,  with  sad- 
ness, “ you  may  say  what  you  like,  but  I 
am  one  of  nine  brothers  and  sisters  brought 
up  on  the  old  place,  and  we  ’re  all  dead  but 
me.” 

“ Your  sister  Dailey  ain’t  gone,  is  she  ? 
Why,  no,  Louisa  ain’t  gone ! ” exclaimed 
Mrs.  Todd,  with  surprise.  “ Why,  I never 
heard  of  that  occurrence ! ” 

“ Yes ’m  ; she  passed  away  last  October, 
in  Lynn.  She  had  made  her  distant  home 
in  Vermont  State,  but  she  was  making  a 
visit  to  her  youngest  daughter.  Louisa  was 
the  only  one  of  my  family  whose  funeral  I 
was  n’t  able  to  attend,  but ’t  was  a mere 
accident.  All  the  rest  of  us  were  settled 
right  about  home.  I thought  it  was  very 
slack  of  ’em  in  Lynn  not  to  fetch  her  to  the 
old  place  ; but  when  I came  to  hear  about 
it,  I learned  that  they ’d  recently  put  up  a 
very  elegant  monument,  and  my  sister  Dailey 
was  always  great  for  show.  She ’d  just  been 
out  to  see  the  monument  the  week  before  she 
was  taken  down,  and  admired  it  so  much 
that  they  felt  sure  of  her  wishes.” 

“ So  she ’s  really  gone,  and  the  funeral 
was  up  to  Lynn  ! ” repeated  Mrs.  Todd,  as 
if  to  impress  the  sad  fact  upon  her  mind. 


A STRANGE  SAIL . 


95 


64  She  was  some  years  younger  than  we  be, 
too.  I recollect  the  first  day  she  ever  came 
to  school ; ’t  was  that  first  year  mother  sent 
me  inshore  to  stay  with  aunt  Topham’s  folks 
and  get  my  schooling.  You  fetched  little 
Louisa  to  school  one  Monday  morn  in’  in  a 
pink  dress  an’  her  long  curls,  and  she  set 
between  you  an’  me,  and  got  cryin’  after  a 
while,  so  the  teacher  sent  us  home  with  her 
at  recess.” 

44  She  was  scared  of  seeing  so  many  chil- 
dren about  her ; there  was  only  her  and  me 
and  brother  John  at  home  then ; the  older 
boys  were  to  sea  with  father,  an’  the  rest  of 
us  wa’n’t  born,”  explained  Mrs.  Fosdick. 
44  That  next  fall  we  all  went  to  sea  together. 
Mother  was  uncertain  till  the  last  minute,  as 
one  may  say.  The  ship  was  waiting  orders, 
but  the  baby  that  then  was,  was  born  just 
in  time,  and  there  was  a long  spell  of  extra 
bad  weather,  so  mother  got  about  again  be- 
fore they  had  to  sail,  an’  we  all  went.  I 
remember  my  clothes  were  all  left  ashore 
in  the  east  chamber  in  a basket  where 
mother ’d  took  them  out  o’  my  chist  o’ 
drawers  an’  left  ’em  ready  to  carry  aboard. 
She  did  n’t  have  nothing  aboard,  of  her  own, 
that  she  wanted  to  cut  up  for  me,  so  when 


96  COUNTRY  OF  TEE  POINTED  FIRS . 

my  dress  wore  out  she  just  put  me  into  a 
spare  suit  o’  John’s,  jacket  and  trousers.  I 
was  n’t  but  eight  years  old  an’  he  was  most 
seven  and  large  of  his  age.  Quick  as  we 
made  a port  she  went  right  ashore  an’  fitted 
me  out  pretty,  but  we  was  bound  for  the  East 
Indies  and  did  n’t  put  in  anywhere  for  a good 
while.  So  I had  quite  a spell  o’  freedom. 
Mother  made  my  new  skirt  long  because  I 
was  growing,  and  I poked  about  the  deck 
after  that,  real  discouraged,  feeling  the  hem 
at  my  heels  every  minute,  and  as  if  youth 
was  past  and  gone.  I liked  the  trousers  best  ; 
I used  to  climb  the  riggin’  with  ’em  and 
frighten  mother  till  she  said  an’  vowed  she ’d 
never  take  me  to  sea  again. 

I thought  by  the  polite  absent-minded 
smile  on  Mrs.  Todd’s  face  this  was  no  new 
story. 

“ Little  Louisa  was  a beautiful  child  ; yes, 
I always  thought  Louisa  was  very  pretty,” 
Mrs.  Todd  said.  “ She  was  a dear  little  girl 
in  those  days.  She  favored  your  mother ; 
the  rest  of  you  took  after  your  father’s 
folks.” 

“We  did  certain,”  agreed  Mrs.  Fosdick, 
rocking  steadily.  “ There,  it  does  seem  so 
pleasant  to  talk  with  an  old  acquaintance 


A STRANGE  SAIL. 


97 


that  knows  what  you  know.  I see  so  many 
of  these  new  folks  nowadays,  that  seem  to 
have  neither  past  nor  future.  Conversation ’s 
got  to  have  some  root  in  the  past,  or  else 
you  ’ve  got  to  explain  every  remark  you 
make,  an’  it  wears  a person  out.” 

Mrs.  Todd  gave  a funny  little  laugh. 
“ Yes ’m,  old  friends  is  always  best,  ’less  you 
can  catch  a new  one  that ’s  fit  to  make  an 
old  one  out  of,”  she  said,  and  we  gave  an 
affectionate  glance  at  each  other  which  Mrs. 
Fosdick  could  not  have  understood,  being 
the  latest  comer  to  the  house. 


POOR  JOANNA. 


One  evening  my  ears  caught  a mysterious 
allusion  which  Mrs.  Todd  made  to  Shell- 
heap  Island.  It  was  a chilly  night  of  cold 
northeasterly  rain,  and  I made  a fire  for  the 
first  time  in  the  Franklin  stove  in  my  room, 
and  begged  my  two  housemates  to  come  in 
and  keep  me  company.  The  weather  had 
convinced  Mrs.  Todd  that  it  was  time  to 
make  a supply  of  cough-drops,  and  she  had 
been  bringing  forth  herbs  from  dark  and  dry 
hiding-places,  until  now  the  pungent  dust 
and  odor  of  them  had  resolved  themselves 
into  one  mighty  flavor  of  spearmint  that 
came  from  a simmering  caldron  of  syrup  in 
the  kitchen.  She  called  it  done,  and  well 
done,  and  had  ostentatiously  left  it  to  cool, 
and  taken  her  knitting-work  because  Mrs. 
Fosdick  was  busy  with  hers.  They  sat  in 
the  two  rocking-chairs,  the  small  woman  and 
the  large  one,  but  now  and  then  I could  see 


POOR  JOANNA. 


99 


that  Mrs.  Todd’s  thoughts  remained  with 
the  cough-drops.  The  time  of  gathering 
herbs  was  nearly  over,  but  the  time  of  syrups 
and  cordials  had  begun. 

The  heat  of  the  open  fire  made  us  a little 
drowsy,  but  something  in  the  way  Mrs.  Todd 
spoke  of  Shell-heap  Island  waked  my  inter- 
est. I waited  to  see  if  she  would  say  any 
more,  and  then  took  a roundabout  way  back 
to  the  subject  by  saying  what  was  first  in 
my  mind : that  I wished  the  Green  Island 
family  were  there  to  spend  the  evening  with 
us,  — Mrs.  Todd’s  mother  and  her  brother 
William. 

Mrs.  Todd  smiled,  and  drummed  on  the 
arm  of  the  rocking-chair.  “ Might  scare 
William  to  death,”  she  warned  me  ; and 
Mrs.  Fosdick  mentioned  her  intention  of 
going  out  to  Green  Island  to  stay  two  or 
three  days,  if  this  wind  did  n’t  make  too 
much  sea. 

“ Where  is  Shell-heap  Island  ? ” I ven- 
tured to  ask,  seizing  the  opportunity. 

“ Bears  nor’east  somewheres  about  three 
miles  from  Green  Island ; right  off-shore,  I 
should  call  it  about  eight  miles  out,”  said 
Mrs.  Todd.  “You  never  was  there,  dear; 
’t  is  off  the  thoroughfares,  and  a very  bad 
place  to  land  at  best.” 


100  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

“ 1 should  think ’t  was,”  agreed  Mrs.  Fos- 
dick,  smoothing  down  her  black  silk  apron. 
“ ’T  is  a place  worth  visitin’  when  you  once 
get  there.  Some  o’  the  old  folks  was  kind 
o’  fearful  about  it.  ’T  was  ’counted  a great 
place  in  old  Indian  times ; you  can  pick  up 
their  stone  tools  ’most  any  time  if  you  hunt 
about.  There ’s  a beautiful  spring  ’o  water, 
too.  Yes,  I remember  when  they  used  to 
tell  queer  stories  about  Shell-heap  Island. 
Some  said ’t  was  a great  bangeing-place  for 
the  Indians,  and  an  old  chief  resided  there 
once  that  ruled  the  winds ; and  others  said 
they ’d  always  heard  that  once  the  Indians 
come  down  from  up  country  an’  left  a cap- 
tive there  without  any  bo’t,  an’  ’t  was  too 
far  to  swim  across  to  Black  Island,  so  called, 
an’  he  lived  there  till  he  perished.” 

“ I ’ve  heard  say  he  walked  the  island  after 
that,  and  sharp-sighted  folks  could  see  him 
an’  lose  him  like  one  o’  them  citizens  Cap’n 
Littlepage  was  acquainted  with  up  to  the 
north  pole,”  announced  Mrs.  Todd  grimly. 
“ Anyway,  there  was  Indians,  — you  can  see 
their  shell-heap  that  named  the  island ; and 
I ’ve  heard  myself  that  ’t  was  one  o’  their 
cannibal  places,  but  I never  could  believe  it. 
There  never  was  no  cannibals  on  the  coast  ’o 


POOR  JOANNA. 


103 


sort  of  a nun  or  hermit  person  lived  out 
there  for  years  all  alone  on  Shell-heap 
Island.  Miss  Joanna  Todd,  her  name  was, 
— a cousin  o’  Almiry’s  late  husband.” 

I expressed  my  interest,  but  as  I glanced 
at  Mrs.  Todd  I saw  that  she  was  confused 
by  sudden  affectionate  feeling  and  unmis- 
takable desire  for  reticence. 

“ I never  want  to  hear  Joanna  laughed 
about,”  she  said  anxiously. 

“Nor  I,”  answered  Mrs.  Fosdick  reassur- 
ingly. “ She  was  crossed  in  love,  — that 
was  all  the  matter  to  begin  with ; but  as  I 
look  back,  I can  see  that  Joanna  was  one 
doomed  from  the  first  to  fall  into  a melan- 
choly. She  retired  from  the  world  for  good 
an’  all,  though  she  was  a well-off  woman. 
All  she  wanted  was  to  get  away  from  folks  ; 
she  thought  she  was  n’t  fit  to  live  with  any- 
body, and  wanted  to  be  free.  Shell-heap 
Island  come  to  her  from  her  father,  and  first 
thing  folks  knew  she ’d  gone  off  out  there 
to  live,  and  left  word  she  did  n’t  want  no 
company.  ’T  was  a bad  place  to  get  to,  un- 
less the  wind  an’  tide  were  just  right ; ’t  was 
hard  work  to  make  a landing.” 

“ What  time  of  year  was  this?  ” I asked. 

“Very  late  in  the  summer,”  said  Mrs. 


104  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

Fosdick.  “No,  I never  could  laugh  at  Jo- 
anna, as  some  did.  She  set  everything  by 
the  young  man,  an’  they  were  going  to  marry 
in  about  a month,  when  he  got  bewitched 
with  a girl  ’way  up  the  bay,  and  married 
her,  and  went  off  to  Massachusetts.  He 
was  n’t  well  thought  of, — there  were  those 
who  thought  Joanna’s  money  was  what  had 
tempted  him ; but  she ’d  given  him  her 
whole  heart,  an’  she  wa’n’t  so  young  as  she 
had  been.  All  her  hopes  were  built  on 
marry  in’,  an’  havin’  a real  home  and  some- 
body to  look  to;  she  acted  just  like  a bird 
when  its  nest  is  spoilt.  The  day  after  she 
heard  the  news  she  was  in  dreadful  woe,  but 
the  next  she  came  to  herself  very  quiet,  and 
took  the  horse  and  wagon,  and  drove  four- 
teen miles  to  the  lawyer’s,  and  signed  a 
paper  givin’  her  half  of  the  farm  to  her 
brother.  They  never  had  got  along  very 
well  together,  but  he  did  n’t  want  to  sign  it, 
till  she  acted  so  distressed  that  he  gave  in. 
Edward  Todd’s  wife  was  a good  woman,  who 
felt  very  bad  indeed,  and  used  every  argu- 
ment with  Joanna;  but  Joanna  took  a poor 
old  boat  that  had  been  her  father’s  and 
lo’ded  in  a few  things,  and  off  she  put  all 
alone,  with  a good  land  breeze,  right  out  to 


POOR  JOANNA. 


105 


sea.  Edward  Todd  ran  down  to  the  beach, 
an’  stood  there  cryin’  like  a boy  to  see  her 
go,  but  she  was  out  o’  hearin’.  She  never 
stepped  foot  on  the  mainland  again  long  as 
she  lived.” 

“ How  large  an  island  is  it  ? How  did 
she  manage  in  winter  ? ” I asked. 

“ Perhaps  thirty  acres,  rocks  and  all,” 
answered  Mrs.  Todd,  taking  up  the  story 
gravely.  “ There  can’t  be  much  of  it  that 
the  salt  spray  don’t  fly  over  in  storms.  No, 
’t  is  a dreadful  small  place  to  make  a world 
of ; it  has  a different  look  from  any  of  the 
other  islands,  but  there ’s  a sheltered  cove 
on  the  south  side,  with  mud-flats  across  one 
end  of  it  at  low  water  where  there ’s  excel- 
lent clams,  and  the  big  shell-heap  keeps 
some  o’  the  wind  off  a little  house  her  father 
took  the  trouble  to  build  when  he  was  a 
young  man.  They  said  there  was  an  old 
house  built  o’  logs  there  before  that,  with  a 
kind  of  natural  cellar  in  the  rock  under  it. 
He  used  to  stay  out  there  days  to  a time, 
and  anchor  a little  sloop  he  had,  and  dig 
clams  to  fill  it,  and  sail  up  to  Portland. 
They  said  the  dealers  always  gave  him  an 
extra  price,  the  clams  were  so  noted.  J oanna 
used  to  go  out  and  stay  with  him.  They 


106  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

were  always  great  companions,  so  she  knew 
just  what ’t  was  out  there.  There  was  a few 
sheep  that  belonged  to  her  brother  an’  her, 
but  she  bargained  for  him  to  come  and  get 
them  on  the  edge  o’  cold  weather.  Yes,  she 
desired  him  to  come  for  the  sheep ; an’  his 
/wife  thought  perhaps  Joanna ’d  return,  but 
he  said  no,  an’  lo’ded  the  bo’t  with  warm 
things  an’  what  he  thought  she ’d  need 
through  the  winter.  He  come  home  with 
the  sheep  an’  left  the  other  things  by  the 
house,  but  she  never  so  much  as  looked  out 
o’  the  window.  She  done  it  for  a penance. 
She  must  have  wanted  to  see  Edward  by 
that  time.” 

Mrs.  Fosdick  was  fidgeting  with  eager- 
ness to  speak. 

“ Some  thought  the  first  cold  snap  would 
set  her  ashore,  but  she  always  remained,” 
concluded  Mrs.  Todd  soberly. 

“ Talk  about  the  men  not  having  any 
curiosity  ! ” exclaimed  Mrs.  Fosdick  scorn- 
fully. “ Why,  the  waters  round  Shell-heap 
Island  were  white  with  sails  all  that  fall. 
’Twas  never  called  no  great  of  a fishin’- 
ground  before.  Many  of  ’em  made  excuse 
to  go  ashore  to  get  water  at  the  spring ; but 
at  last  she  spoke  to  a bo’t-load,  very  digni- 


POOR  JOANNA. 


107 


fied  and  calm,  and  said  that  she ’d  like  it 
better  if  they ’d  make  a practice  of  getting 
water  to  Black  Island  or  somewheres  else 
and  leave  her  alone,  except  in  case  of  acci- 
dent or  trouble.  But  there  was  one  man 
who  had  always  set  everything  by  her  from 
a boy.  He ’d  have  married  her  if  the  other 
had  n’t  come  about  an’  spoilt  his  chance, 
and  he  used  to  get  close  to  the  island,  before 
light,  on  his  way  out  fishin’,  and  throw  a 
little  bundle  ’way  up  the  green  slope  front 
o’  the  house.  His  sister  told  me  she  hap- 
pened to  see,  the  first  time,  what  a pretty 
choice  he  made  o’  useful  things  that  a woman 
would  feel  lost  without.  He  stood  off  fish- 
in’, and  could  see  them  in  the  grass  all  day, 
though  sometimes  she ’d  come  out  and  walk 
right  by  them.  There  was  other  bo’ts  near, 
out  after  mackerel.  But  early  next  morning 
his  present  was  gone.  He  did  n’t  presume 
too  much,  but  once  he  took  her  a nice  firkin 
o’  things  he  got  up  to  Portland,  and  when 
spring  come  he  landed  her  a hen  and  chick- 
ens in  a nice  little  coop.  There  was  a good 
many  old  friends  had  Joanna  on  their 
minds.” 

66  Yes,”  said  Mrs.  Todd,  losing  her  sad 
reserve  in  the  growing  sympathy  of  these 


108  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

reminiscences.  “ How  everybody  used  to 
notice  whether  there  was  smoke  out  of  the 
chimney ! The  Black  Island  folks  could  see 
her  with  their  spy-glass,  and  if  they ’d  ever 
missed  getting  some  sign  o’  life  they ’d  have 
sent  notice  to  her  folks.  But  after  the  first 
year  or  two  Joanna  was  more  and  more  for- 
gotten as  an  every-day  charge.  Folks  lived 
very  simple  in  those  days,  you  know,”  she 
continued,  as  Mrs.  Fosdick’s  knitting  was 
taking  much  thought  at  the  moment.  “ I 
expect  there  was  always  plenty  of  driftwood 
thrown  up,  and  a poor  failin’  patch  of 
spruces  covered  all  the  north  side  of  the 
island,  so  she  always  had  something  to  burn. 
She  was  very  fond  of  workin’  in  the  garden 
ashore,  and  that  first  summer  she  began  to 
till  the  little  field  out  there,  and  raised  a 
nice  parcel  o’  potatoes.  She  could  fish,  o’ 
course,  and  there  was  all  her  clams  an’  lob- 
sters. You  can  always  live  well  in  any  wild 
place  by  the  sea  when  you ’d  starve  to  death 
up  country,  except  ’twas  berry  time.  Jo- 
anna had  berries  out  there,  blackberries  at 
least,  and  there  was  a few  herbs  in  case  she 
needed  them.  Mullein  in  great  quantities 
and  a plant  o’  wormwood  I remember  seeing 
once  when  I stayed  there,  long  before  she 


POOR  JOANNA. 


109 


fled  out  to  Shell-heap.  Yes,  I recall  the 
wormwood,  which  is  always  a planted  herb,  so 
there  must  have  been  folks  there  before  the 
Todds’  day.  A growin’  bush  makes  the  best 
gravestone  ; I expect  that  wormwood  always 
stood  for  somebody’s  solemn  monument. 
Catnip,  too,  is  a very  endurin’  herb  about  an 
old  place.” 

“ But  what  I want  to  know  is  what  she 
did  for  other  things,”  interrupted  Mrs.  Fos- 
dick.  “ Almiry,  what  did  she  do  for  cloth- 
in’  when  she  needed  to  replenish,  or  risin’ 
for  her  bread,  or  the  piece-bag  that  no  wo- 
man can  live  long  without?  ” 

“ Or  company,”  suggested  Mrs.  Todd. 
“ J oanna  was  one  that  loved  her  friends. 
There  must  have  been  a terrible  sight  o’ 
long  winter  evenin’s  that  first  year.” 

“ There  was  her  hens,”  suggested  Mrs. 
Fosdick,  after  reviewing  the  melancholy  sit- 
uation. “ She  never  wanted  the  sheep  after 
that  first  season.  There  wa’n’t  no  proper 
pasture  for  sheep  after  the  J une  grass  was 
past,  and  she  ascertained  the  fact  and 
could  n’t  bear  to  see  them  suffer ; but  the 
chickens  done  well.  I remember  sailin’  by 
one  spring  afternoon,  an’  seein’  the  coops  out 
front  o’  the  house  in  the  sun.  How  long 


110  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

was  it  before  you  went  out  with  the  minis- 
ter ? You  were  the  first  ones  that  ever 
really  got  ashore  to  see  Joanna.” 

I had  been  reflecting  upon  a state  of 
society  which  admitted  such  personal  free- 
dom and  a voluntary  hermitage.  There  was 
something  mediaeval  in  the  behavior  of  poor 
Joanna  Todd  under  a disappointment  of  the 
heart.  The  two  women  had  drawn  closer 
together,  and  were  talking  on,  quite  uncon- 
scious of  a listener. 

“ Poor  Joanna  ! ” said  Mrs.  Todd  again, 
and  sadly  shook  her  head  as  if  there  were 
things  one  could  not  speak  about. 

66 1 called  her  a great  fool,”  declared  Mrs. 
Fosdick,  with  spirit,  “ but  I pitied  her  then, 
and  I pity  her  far  more  now.  Some  other 
minister  would  have  been  a great  help  to 
her,  — one  that  preached  self-forgetfulness 
and  doin’  for  others  to  cure  our  own  ills ; 
but  Parson  Dimmick  was  a vague  person, 
well  meanin’,  but  very  numb  in  his  feelin’s. 
I don’t  suppose  at  that  troubled  time  J oanna 
could  think  of  any  way  to  mend  her  troubles 
except  to  run  off  and  hide.” 

“ Mother  used  to  say  she  did  n’t  see  how 
Joanna  lived  without  having  nobody  to  do 
for,  getting  her  own  meals  and  tending  her 


POOR  JOANNA. 


Ill 


own  poor  self  day  in  an’  day  out,”  said  Mrs. 
Todd  sorrowfully. 

u There  was  the  hens,”  repeated  Mrs.  Fos- 
dick  kindly.  “ I expect  she  soon  came  to 
makin’  folks  o’  them.  No,  I never  went  to 
work  to  blame  Joanna,  as  some  did.  She 
was  full  o’  feeling,  and  her  troubles  hurt  her 
more  than  she  could  bear.  I see  it  all  now 
as  I could  n’t  when  I was  young.” 

“ I suppose  in  old  times  they  had  their 
shut-up  convents  for  just  such  folks,”  said 
Mrs.  Todd,  as  if  she  and  her  friend  had  dis- 
agreed about  Joanna  once,  and  were  now  in 
happy  harmony.  She  seemed  to  speak  with 
new  openness  and  freedom.  “ Oh  yes,  I was 
only  too  pleased  when  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Dimmick  invited  me  to  go  out  with  him. 
He  had  n’t  been  very  long  in  the  place  when 
Joanna  left  home  and  friends.  ’T  was  one 
day  that  next  summer  after  she  went,  and  I 
had  been  married  early  in  the  spring.  He 
felt  that  he  ought  to  go  out  and  visit  her. 
She  was  a member  of  the  church,  and  might 
wish  to  have  him  consider  her  spiritual  state. 
I wa’n’t  so  sure  o’  that,  but  I always  liked 
Joanna,  and  I ’d  come  to  be  her  cousin  by 
marriage.  Nathan  an’  I had  conversed  about 
goin’  out  to  pay  her  a visit,  but  he  got  his 


112  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

chance  to  sail  sooner  ’n  he  expected.  He 
always  thought  everything  of  her,  and  last 
time  he  come  home,  knowing  nothing  of  her 
change,  he  brought  her  a beautiful  coral  pin 
from  a port  he ’d  touched  at  somewheres  up 
the  Mediterranean.  So  I wrapped  the  little 
box  in  a nice  piece  of  paper  and  put  it  in 
my  pocket,  and  picked  her  a bunch  of  fresh 
lemon  balm,  and  off  we  started.’’ 

Mrs.  Fosdick  laughed.  66 1 remember 
hearin’  about  your  trials  on  the  v’y’ge,”  she 
said. 

“ Why,  yes,”  continued  Mrs.  Todd  in  her 
company  manner.  “ I picked  her  the  balm, 
an’  we  started.  Why,  yes,  Susan,  the  min- 
ister liked  to  have  cost  me  my  life  that  day. 
He  would  fasten  the  sheet,  though  I advised 
against  it.  He  said  the  rope  was  rough  an’ 
cut  his  hand.  There  was  a fresh  breeze,  an’ 
he  went  on  talking  rather  high  flown,  an’  I 
felt  some  interested.  All  of  a sudden  there 
come  up  a gust,  and  he  give  a screech  and 
stood  right  up  and  called  for  help,  ’way  out 
there  to  sea.  I knocked  him  right  over  into 
the  bottom  o’  the  bo’t,  getting  by  to  catch 
hold  of  the  sheet  an’  untie  it.  He  was  n’t 
but  a little  man ; I helped  him  right  up 
after  the  squall  passed,  and  made  a hand- 


POOR  JOANNA. 


113 


some  apology  to  him,  but  he  did  act  kind  o’ 
offended.” 

“ I do  think  they  ought  not  to  settle  them 
landlocked  folks  in  parishes  where  they  ’re 
liable  to  be  on  the  water,”  insisted  Mrs.  Fos- 
dick.  “ Think  of  the  families  in  our  parish 
that  was  scattered  all  about  the  bay,  and 
what  a sight  o’  sails  you  used  to  see,  in  Mr. 
Dimmick’s  day,  standing  across  to  the  main- 
land on  a pleasant  Sunday  morning,  filled 
with  church-going  folks,  all  sure  to  want 
him  some  time  or  other  ! You  could  n’t  find 
no  doctor  that  would  stand  up  in  the  boat 
and  screech  if  a flaw  struck  her.” 

“ Old  Dr.  Bennett  had  a beautiful  sail- 
boat, did  n’t  he  ? ” responded  Mrs.  Todd. 
“ And  how  well  he  used  to  brave  the  weather ! 
Mother  always  said  that  in  time  o’  trouble  that 
tall  white  sail  used  to  look  like  an  angel’s 
wing  cornin’  over  the  sea  to  them  that  was 
in  pain.  Well,  there ’s  a difference  in  gifts. 
Mr.  Dimmick  was  not  without  light.” 

“ ’T  was  light  o’  the  moon,  then,”  snapped 
Mrs.  Fosdick  ; “ he  was  pompous  enough, 
but  I never  could  remember  a single  word 
he  said.  There,  go  on,  Mis’  Todd ; I forget 
a great  deal  about  that  day  you  went  to  see 
poor  Joanna.” 


114  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

“ I felt  she  saw  us  coming,  and  knew  us  a 
great  way  off ; yes,  I seemed  to  feel  it  within 
me,”  said  our  friend,  laying  down  her  knit- 
ting, “ I kept  my  seat,  and  took  the  bo’t 
inshore  without  saying  a word ; there  was  a 
short  channel  that  I was  sure  Mr.  Dimmick 
was  n’t  acquainted  with,  and  the  tide  was 
very  low.  She  never  came  out  to  warn  us 
off  nor  anything,  and  I thought,  as  I hauled 
the  bo’t  up  on  a wave  and  let  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Dimmick  step  out,  that  it  was  some- 
thin’ gained  to  be  safe  ashore.  There  was  a 
little  smoke  out  o’  the  chimney  o’  Joanna’s 
house,  and  it  did  look  sort  of  homelike  and 
pleasant  with  wild  mornin’-glory  vines  trained 
up ; an’  there  was  a plot  o’  flowers  under  the 
front  window,  portulacas  and  things.  I be- 
lieve she ’d  made  a garden  once,  when  she 
was  stopping  there  with  her  father,  and 
some  things  must  have  seeded  in.  It  looked 
as  if  she  might  have  gone  over  to  the  other 
side  of  the  island.  ’T  was  neat  and  pretty 
all  about  the  house,  and  a lovely  day  in  J uly. 
We  walked  up  from  the  beach  together  very 
sedate,  and  I felt  for  poor  Nathan’s  little 
pin  to  see  if  ’t  was  safe  in  my  dress  pocket. 
All  of  a sudden  Joanna  come  right  to  the 
fore  door  and  stood  there,  not  sayin’  a word. 


XIV. 

THE  HERMITAGE. 

My  companions  and  I had  been  so  intent 
upon  the  subject  of  the  conversation  that 
we  had  not  heard  any  one  open  the  gate,  but 
at  this  moment,  above  the  noise  of  the  rain, 
we  heard  a loud  knocking.  We  were  all 
startled  as  we  sat  by  the  fire,  and  Mrs.  Todd 
rose  hastily  and  went  to  answer  the  call, 
leaving  her  rocking-chair  in  violent  mo- 
tion. Mrs.  Fosdick  and  I heard  an  anxious 
voice  at  the  door  speaking  of  a sick  child, 
and  Mrs.  Todd’s  kind,  motherly  voice  in- 
viting the  messenger  in : then  we  waited  in 
silence.  There  was  a sound  of  heavy  drop- 
ping of  rain  from  the  eaves,  and  the  distant 
roar  and  undertone  of  the  sea.  My  thoughts 
flew  back  to  the  lonely  woman  on  her  outer 
island;  what  separation  from  humankind 
she  must  have  felt,  what  terror  and  sadness, 
even  in  a summer  storm  like  this ! 

“ You  send  right  after  the  doctor  if  she 


116  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

ain’t  better  in  half  an  hour,”  said  Mrs.  Todd 
to  her  worried  customer  as  they  parted ; and 
I felt  a warm  sense  of  comfort  in  the  evi- 
dent resources  of  even  so  small  a neighbor- 
hood, but  for  the  poor  hermit  Joanna  there 
was  no  neighbor  on  a winter  night. 

“ How  did  she  look  ? ” demanded  Mrs. 
Fosdick,  without  preface,  as  our  large  host- 
ess returned  to  the  little  room  with  a mist 
about  her  from  standing  long  in  the  wet  door- 
way, and  the  sudden  draught  of  her  coming 
beat  out  the  smoke  and  flame  from  the  Frank- 
lin stove.  “ How  did  poor  Joanna  look  ? ” 

“ She  was  the  same  as  ever,  except  I 
thought  she  looked  smaller,”  answered  Mrs. 
Todd  after  thinking  a moment ; perhaps  it 
was  only  a last  considering  thought  about 
her  patient.  “ Yes,  she  was  just  the  same, 
and  looked  very  nice,  Joanna  did.  I had 
been  married  since  she  left  home,  an’  she 
treated  me  like  her  own  folks.  I expected 
she  ’d  look  strange,  with  her  hair  turned 
gray  in  a night  or  somethin’,  but  she  wore 
a pretty  gingham  dress  I ’d  often  seen  her 
wear  before  she  went  away ; she  must  have 
kept  it  nice  for  best  in  the  afternoons.  She 
always  had  beautiful,  quiet  manners.  I re- 


THE  HERMITAGE. 


117 


member  she  waited  till  we  were  close  to  her, 
and  then  kissed  me  real  affectionate,  and  in- 
quired for  Nathan  before  she  shook  hands 
with  the  minister,  and  then  she  invited  us 
both  in.  ’T  was  the  same  little  house  her 
father  had  built  him  when  he  was  a bach- 
elor, with  one  livin’-room,  and  a little  mite 
of  a bedroom  out  of  it  where  she  slept,  but 
’t  was  neat  as  a ship’s  cabin.  There  was 
some  old  chairs,  an’  a seat  made  of  a long 
box  that  might  have  held  boat  tackle  an’ 
things  to  lock  up  in  his  fishin’  days,  and  a 
good  enough  stove  so  anybody  could  cook 
and  keep  warm  in  cold  weather.  I went 
over  once  from  home  and  stayed  ’most  a 
week  with  Joanna  when  we  was  girls,  and 
those  young  happy  days  rose  up  before  me. 
Her  father  was  busy  all  day  fishin’  or  clam- 
min’ ; he  was  one  o’  the  pleasantest  men  in 
the  world,  but  Joanna’s  mother  had  the  grim 
streak,  and  never  knew  what ’t  was  to  be 
happy.  The  first  minute  my  eyes  fell  upon 
Joanna’s  face  that  day  I saw  how  she  had 
grown  to  look  like  Mis’  Todd.  ’T  was  the 
mother  right  over  again.” 

“ Oh  dear  me  ! ” said  Mrs.  Fosdick. 

“ Joanna  had  done  one  thing  very  pretty. 
There  was  a little  piece  o’  swamp  on  the 


118  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

island  where  good  rushes  grew  plenty,  and 
she ’d  gathered  ’em,  and  braided  some  beauti- 
ful mats  for  the  floor  and  a thick  cushion 
for  the  long  bunk.  She ’d  showed  a good 
deal  of  invention  ; you  see  there  was  a nice 
chance  to  pick  up  pieces  o’  wood  and  boards 
that  drove  ashore,  and  she ’d  made  good  use 
o’  what  she  found.  There  was  n’t  no  clock, 
but  she  had  a few  dishes  on  a shelf,  and 
flowers  set  about  in  shells  fixed  to  the  walls,  so 
it  did  look  sort  of  homelike,  though  so  lonely 
and  poor.  I could  n’t  keep  the  tears  out  o’ 
my  eyes,  I felt  so  sad.  I said  to  myself,  I 
must  get  mother  to  come  over  an’  see  J oanna ; 
the  love  in  mother’s  heart  would  warm  her, 
an’  she  might  be  able  to  advise.” 

“ Oh  no,  Joanna  was  dreadful  stern,”  said 
Mrs.  Fosdick. 

“We  were  all  settin’  down  very  proper, 
but  Joanna  would  keep  stealin’  glances  at 
me  as  if  she  was  glad  I come.  She  had  but 
little  to  say ; she  was  real  polite  an’  gentle, 
and  yet  forbiddin’.  The  minister  found  it 
hard,”  confessed  Mrs.  Todd ; “ he  got  em- 
barrassed, an’  when  he  put  on  his  authority 
and  asked  her  if  she  felt  to  enjoy  religion  in 
her  present  situation,  an’  she  replied  that 
she  must  be  excused  from  answerin’,  I 


THE  HERMITAGE . 


119 


thought  I should  fly.  She  might  have  made 
it  easier  for  him;  after  all,  he  was  the 
minister  and  had  taken  some  trouble  to  come 
out,  though ’t  was  kind  of  cold  an’  unfeelin’ 
the  way  he  inquired.  I thought  he  might 
have  seen  the  little  old  Bible  a-layin’  on  the 
shelf  close  by  him,  an’  I wished  he  knew 
enough  to  just  lay  his  hand  on  it  an’  read 
somethin’  kind  an’  fatherly  ’stead  of  accusin’ 
her,  an’  then  given  poor  Joanna  his  blessin’ 
with  the  hope  she  might  be  led  to  comfort. 
He  did  offer  prayer,  but  ’twas  all  about 
hearin’  the  voice  o’  God  out  o’  the  whirl- 
wind ; and  I thought  while  he  was  goin’  on 
that  anybody  that  had  spent  the  long  cold 
winter  all  alone  out  on  Shell-heap  Island 
knew  a good  deal  more  about  those  things 
than  he  did.  I got  so  provoked  I opened 
my  eyes  and  stared  right  at  him. 

“ She  did  n’t  take  no  notice,  she  kep’  a 
nice  respectful  manner  towards  him,  and 
when  there  come  a pause  she  asked  if  he 
had  any  interest  about  the  old  Indian  re- 
mains, and  took  down  some  queer  stone 
gouges  and  hammers  off  of  one  of  her  shelves 
and  showed  them  to  him  same ’s  if  he  was  a 
boy.  He  remarked  that  he ’d  like  to  walk 
over  an’  see  the  shell-heap ; so  she  went 


120  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

right  to  the  door  and  pointed  him  the  way. 
I see  then  that  she ’d  made  her  some  kind  o’ 
sandal-shoes  out  o’  the  fine  rushes  to  wear  on 
her  feet ; she  stepped  light  an’  nice  in  ’em 
as  shoes.” 

Mrs.  Fosdick  leaned  back  in  her  rocking- 
chair  and  gave  a heavy  sigh. 

44  I did  n’t  move  at  first,  but  I ’d  held  out 
just  as  long  as  I could,”  said  Mrs.  Todd, 
whose  voice  trembled  a little.  44  When  Jo- 
anna returned  from  the  door,  an’  I could 
see  that  man’s  stupid  back  departin’  among 
the  wild  rose  bushes,  I just  ran  to  her  an’ 
caught  her  in  my  arms.  I was  n’t  so  big  as 
I be  now,  and  she  was  older  than  me,  but  I 
hugged  her  tight,  just  as  if  she  was  a child. 
4 Oh,  Joanna  dear,’  I says,  4 won’t  you  come 
ashore  an’  live  ’long  o’  me  at  the  Landin’,  or 
go  over  to  Green  Island  to  mother’s  when 
winter  comes?  Nobody  shall  trouble  you, 
an’  mother  finds  it  hard  bein’  alone.  I can’t 
bear  to  leave  you  here’  — and  I burst  right 
out  crying.  I ’d  had  my  own  trials,  young 
as  I was,  an’  she  knew  it.  Oh,  I did  entreat 
her  ; yes,  I entreated  Joanna.” 

44  What  did  she  say  then  ? ” asked  Mrs. 
Fosdick,  much  moved. 

44  She  looked  the  same  way,  sad  an’  remote 


THE  HERMITAGE. 


121 


through  it  all,”  said  Mrs.  Todd  mournfully. 
“ She  took  hold  of  my  hand,  and  we  sat 
down  close  together  ; ’t  was  as  if  she  turned 
round  an’  made  a child  of  me.  4 1 have  n’t 
got  no  right  to  live  with  folks  no  more,’  she 
said.  4 You  must  never  ask  me  again,  Al- 
miry  : I ’ve  done  the  only  thing  I could  do, 
and  I ’ve  made  my  choice.  I feel  a great 
comfort  in  your  kindness,  but  I don’t  deserve 
it.  I have  committed  the  unpardonable  sin  ; 
you  don’t  understand,’  says  she  humbly. 
4 1 was  in  great  wrath  and  trouble,  and  my 
thoughts  was  so  wicked  towards  God  that  I 
can’t  expect  ever  to  be  forgiven.  I have 
come  to  know  what  it  is  to  have  patience, 
but  I have  lost  my  hope.  You  must  tell 
those  that  ask  how ’t  is  with  me,’  she  said, 
4 an’  tell  them  I want  to  be  alone.’  I could  n’t 
speak ; no,  there  wa’n’t  anything  I could  say, 
she  seemed  so  above  everything  common.  I 
was  a good  deal  younger  then  than  I be 
now,  and  I got  Nathan’s  little  coral  pin  out 
o’  my  pocket  and  put  it  into  her  hand ; and 
when  she  saw  it  and  I told  her  where  it  come 
from,  her  face  did  really  light  up  for  a 
minute,  sort  of  bright  an’  pleasant.  4 Nathan 
an’  I was  always  good  friends  ; I ’m  glad  he 
don’t  think  hard  of  me,’  says  she.  4 1 want 


122  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

you  to  have  it,  Almiry,  an’  wear  it  for  love  o’ 
both  o’  us,’  and  she  handed  it  back  to  me. 
6 You  give  my  love  to  Nathan,  — he ’s  a dear 
good  man,’  she  said ; 4 an’  tell  your  mother,  if 
I should  be  sick  she  must  n’t  wish  I could 
get  well,  but  I want  her  to  be  the  one  to 
come.’  Then  she  seemed  to  have  said  all 
she  wanted  to,  as  if  she  was  done  with  the 
world,  and  we  sat  there  a few  minutes  longer 
together.  It  was  real  sweet  and  quiet  except 
for  a good  many  birds  and  the  sea  rollin’  up 
on  the  beach ; but  at  last  she  rose,  an’  I did 
too,  and  she  kissed  me  and  held  my  hand  in 
hers  a minute,  as  if  to  say  good-by ; then  she 
turned  and  went  right  away  out  o’  the  door 
and  disappeared. 

“ The  minister  come  back  pretty  soon, 
and  I told  him  I was  all  ready,  and  we 
started  down  to  the  bo’t.  He  had  picked 
up  some  round  stones  and  things  and  was 
carrying  them  in  his  pocket-handkerchief  ; 
an’  he  sat  down  amidships  without  making 
any  question,  and  let  me  take  the  rudder  an’ 
work  the  bo’t,  an’  made  no  remarks  for 
some  time,  until  we  sort  of  eased  it  off 
speaking  of  the  weather,  an’  subjects  that 
arose  as  we  skirted  Black  Island,  where  two 
or  three  families  lived  belongin’  to  the  parish. 


THE  HERMITAGE. 


123 


He  preached  next  Sabbath  as  usual,  some- 
thin’ high  soundin’  about  the  creation,  and 
I could  n’t  help  thinkin’  he  might  never  get 
no  further ; he  seemed  to  know  no  remedies, 
but  he  had  a great  use  of  words.” 

Mrs.  Fosdick  sighed  again.  “ Hearin’ 
you  tell  about  Joanna  brings  the  time  right 
back  as  if  ’twas  yesterday,”  she  said.  “ Yes, 
she  was  one  o’  them  poor  things  that  talked 
about  the  great  sin ; we  don’t  seem  to  hear 
nothing  about  the  unpardonable  sin  now, 
but  you  may  say ’t  was  not  uncommon  then.” 

“I  expect  that  if  it  had  been  in  these 
days,  such  a person  would  be  plagued  to 
death  with  idle  folks,”  continued  Mrs.  Todd, 
after  a long  pause.  “ As  it  was,  nobody 
trespassed  on  her;  all  the  folks  about  the 
bay  respected  her  an’  her  feelings ; but  as 
time  wore  on,  after  you  left  here,  one  after 
another  ventured  to  make  occasion  to  put 
somethin’  ashore  for  her  if  they  went  that 
way.  I know  mother  used  to  go  to  see  her 
sometimes,  and  send  William  over  now  and 
then  with  something  fresh  an’  nice  from  the 
farm.  There  is  a point  on  the  sheltered 
side  where  you  can  lay  a boat  close  to  shore 
an’  land  anything  safe  on  the  turf  out  o’ 
reach  o’  the  water.  There  were  one  or  two 


124  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

others,  old  folks,  that  she  would  see,  and 
now  an9  then  she  9d  hail  a passin9  boat  an’ 
ask  for  somethin’ ; and  mother  got  her  to 
promise  that  she  would  make  some  sign  to 
the  Black  Island  folks  if  she  wanted  help. 
I never  saw  her  myself  to  speak  to  after 
that  day.” 

“ I expect  nowadays,  if  such  a thing  hap- 
pened, she’d  have  gone  out  West  to  her 
uncle’s  folks  or  up  to  Massachusetts  and  had 
a change,  an’  come  home  good  as  new.  The 
world ’s  bigger  an’  freer  than  it  used  to  be,” 
urged  Mrs.  Fosdick. 

uNo,”  said  her  friend.  “ ’T  is  like  bad 
eyesight,  the  mind  of  such  a person : if  your 
eyes  don’t  see  right  there  may  be  a remedy, 
but  there ’s  no  kind  of  glasses  to  remedy  the 
mind.  No,  Joanna  was  Joanna,  and  there 
she  lays  on  her  island  where  she  lived  and 
did  her  poor  penance.  She  told  mother  the 
day  she  was  dyin’  that  she  always  used  to 
want  to  be  fetched  inshore  when  it  come  to 
the  last ; but  she ’d  thought  it  over,  and 
desired  to  be  laid  on  the  island,  if  ’t  was 
thought  right.  So  the  funeral  was  out 
there,  a Saturday  afternoon  in  September. 
’T  was  a pretty  day,  and  there  wa’n’t  hardly 
a boat  on  the  coast  within  twenty  miles  that 


THE  HERMITAGE. 


125 


did  n’t  head  for  Shell-heap  cram-full  o’ 
folks,  an’  all  real  respectful,  same ’s  if  she ’d 
always  stayed  ashore  and  held  her  friends. 
Some  went  out  o’  mere  curiosity,  I don’t 
doubt,  — there ’s  always  such  to  every 
funeral ; but  most  had  real  feelin’,  and  went 
purpose  to  show  it.  She ’d  got  most  o’  the 
wild  sparrows  as  tame  as  could  be,  livin’  out 
there  so  long  among  ’em,  and  one  flew  right 
in  and  lit  on  the  coffin  an’  begun  to  sing 
while  Mr.  Dimmick  was  speakin’.  He  was 
put  out  by  it,  an’  acted  as  if  he  did  n’t  know 
whether  to  stop  or  go  on.  I may  have  been 
prejudiced,  but  I wa’n’t  the  only  one  thought 
the  poor  little  bird  done  the  best  of  the 
two.” 

“ What  became  o’  the  man  that  treated 
her  so,  did  you  ever  hear?”  asked  Mrs. 
Fosdick.  “I  know  he  lived  up  to  Massa- 
chusetts for  a while.  Somebody  who  came 
from  the  same  place  told  me  that  he  was  in 
trade  there  an’  doin’  very  well,  but  that  was 
years  ago.” 

“ I never  heard  anything  more  than  that ; 
he  went  to  the  war  in  one  o’  the  early  rigi- 
ments.  No,  I never  heard  any  more  of 
him,”  answered  Mrs.  Todd.  “ Joanna  was 
another  sort  of  person,  and  perhaps  he 


126  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

showed  good  judgment  in  marry  in’  some- 
body else,  if  only  he ’d  behaved  straight- 
forward and  manly.  He  was  a shifty-eyed, 
coaxin’  sort  of  man,  that  got  what  he  wanted 
out  o’  folks,  an’  only  gave  when  he  wanted  to 
buy,  made  friends  easy  and  lost  ’em  without 
knowin’  the  difference.  She ’d  had  a piece 
o’  work  tryin’  to  make  him  walk  accordin’  to 
her  right  ideas,  but  she ’d  have  had  too  much 
variety  ever  to  fall  into  a melancholy.  Some 
is  meant  to  be.  the  Joannas  in  this  world, 
an’  ’t  was  her  poor  lot.” 


XV, 

ON  SHELL-HEAP  ISLAND. 

Some  time  after  Mrs.  Fosdick’s  visit  was 
over  and  we  had  returned  to  our  former 
quietness,  I was  out  sailing  alone  with  Cap- 
tain Bowden  in  his  large  boat.  We  were 
taking  the  crooked  northeasterly  channel 
seaward,  and  were  well  out  from  shore  while 
it  was  still  early  in  the  afternoon.  I found 
myself  presently  among  some  unfamiliar 
islands,  and  suddenly  remembered  the  story 
of  poor  Joanna.  There  is  something  in  the 
fact  of  a hermitage  that  cannot  fail  to  touch 
the  imagination ; the  recluses  are  a sad  kin- 
dred, but  they  are  never  commonplace. 
Mrs.  Todd  had  truly  said  that  Joanna  was 
like  one  of  the  saints  in  the  desert ; the 
loneliness  of  sorrow  will  forever  keep  alive 
their  sad  succession. 

“ Where  is  Shell-heap  Island ! ” I asked 
eagerly. 

46  You  see  Shell-heap  now,  lay  in’  ’way  out 


128  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

beyond  Black  Island  there,”  answered  the 
captain,  pointing  with  outstretched  arm  as 
he  stood,  and  holding  the  rudder  with  his 
knee. 

“ I should  like  very  much  to  go  there,” 
said  I,  and  the  captain,  without  comment, 
changed  his  course  a little  more  to  the  east- 
ward and  let  the  reef  out  of  his  mainsail. 

“I  don’t  know’s  we  can  make  an  easy 
landin’  for  ye,”  he  remarked  doubtfully. 
“ May  get  your  feet  wet ; bad  place  to  land. 
Trouble  is  I ought  to  have  brought  a tag- 
boat;  but  they  clutch  on  to  the  water  so, 
an’  I do  love  to  sail  free.  This  gre’t  boat 
gets  easy  bothered  with  anything  trailin’. 
’T  ain’t  breakin’  much  on  the  meetin’-house 
ledges ; guess  I can  fetch  in  to  Shell-heap.” 

“ How  long  is  it  since  Miss  Joanna  Todd 
died  ? ” I asked,  partly  by  way  of  explana- 
tion. 

“ Twenty-two  years  come  September,”  an- 
swered the  captain,  after  reflection.  “ She 
died  the  same  year  my  oldest  boy  was  born, 
an’  the  town  house  was  burnt  over  to  the 
Port.  I did  n’t  know  but  you  merely  wanted 
to  hunt  for  some  o’  them  Indian  relics. 
Long ’s  you  want  to  see  where  Joanna  lived 
- — No,  ’t  ain’t  breakin’  over  the  ledges  ; 


ON  SHELL-HEAP  ISLAND. 


129 


we  ’ll  manage  to  fetch  across  the  shoals 
somehow,  ’t  is  such  a distance  to  go  ’way 
round,  and  tide ’s  a-risin’,”  he  ended  hope- 
fully, and  we  sailed  steadily  on,  the  captain 
speechless  with  intent  watching  of  a difficult 
course,  until  the  small  island  with  its  low 
whitish  promontory  lay  in  full  view  before 
us  under  the  bright  afternoon  sun. 

The  month  was  August,  and  I had  seen 
the  color  of  the  islands  change  from  the 
fresh  green  of  June  to  a sunburnt  brown 
that  made  them  look  like  stone,  except  where 
the  dark  green  of  the  spruces  and  fir  balsam 
kept  the  tint  that  even  winter  storms  might 
deepen,  but  not  fade.  The  few  wind-bent 
trees  on  Shell-heap  Island  were  mostly  dead 
and  gray,  but  there  were  some  low-growing 
bushes,  and  a stripe  of  light  green  ran  along 
just  above  the  shore,  which  I knew  to  be 
wild  morning-glories.  As  we  came  close  I 
could  see  the  high  stone  walls  of  a small 
square  field,  though  there  were  no  sheep  left 
to  assail  it;  and  below,  there  was  a little 
harbor-like  cove  where  Captain  Bowden  was 
boldly  running  the  great  boat  in  to  seek  a 
landing-place.  There  was  a crooked  channel 
of  deep  water  which  led  close  up  against  the 
shore. 


130  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

“ There,  you  hold  fast  forward  there,  an’ 
wait  for  her  to  lift  on  the  wave.  You  ’ll 
make  a good  landin’  if  you  ’re  smart ; right 
on  the  port-hand  side ! ” the  captain  called 
excitedly ; and  I,  standing  ready  with  high 
ambition,  seized  my  chance  and  leaped  over 
to  the  grassy  bank. 

“ I ’in  beat  if  I ain’t  aground  after  all ! ” 
mourned  the  captain  despondently. 

But  I could  reach  the  bowsprit,  and  he 
pushed  with  the  boat-hook,  while  the  wind 
veered  round  a little  as  if  on  purpose  and 
helped  with  the  sail ; so  presently  the  boat 
was  free  and  began  to  drift  out  from  shore. 

“Used  to  call  this  p’int  Joanna ’s  wharf 
privilege,  but  ’t  has  worn  away  in  the 
weather  since  her  time.  I thought  one  or 
two  bumps  would  n’t  hurt  us  none,  — paint ’s 
got  to  be  renewed,  anyway,  — but  I never 
thought  she ’d  tetch.  I figured  on  shyin’ 
by,”  the  captain  apologized.  “ She ’s  too 
gre’t  a boat  to  handle  well  in  here ; but  I 
used  to  sort  of  shy  by  in  J oanna’s  day,  an’ 
cast  a little  somethin’  ashore  — some  apples 
or  a couple  o’  pears  if  I had  ’em  — on  the 
grass,  where  she ’d  be  sure  to  see.” 

I stood  watching  while  Captain  Bowden 


ON  SHELL-HEAP  ISLAND. 


131 


cleverly  found  his  way  back  to  deeper  water. 
“ You  need  n’t  make  no  haste,”  he  called  to 
me;  “I  ’ll  keep  within  call.  Joanna  lays 
right  up  there  in  the  far  corner  o’  the  field. 
There  used  to  be  a path  led  to  the  place.  I 
always  knew  her  well.  I was  out  here  to 
the  funeral. 

I found  the  path  ; it  was  touching  to  dis- 
cover that  this  lonely  spot  was  not  without 
its  pilgrims.  Later  generations  will  know 
less  and  less  of  Joanna  herself,  but  there 
are  paths  trodden  to  the  shrines  of  solitude 
the  world  over,  — the  world  cannot  forget 
them,  try  as  it  may ; the  feet  of  the  young 
find  them  out  because  of  curiosity  and  dim 
foreboding,  while  the  old  bring  hearts  full 
of  remembrance.  This  plain  anchorite  had 
been  one  of  those  whom  sorrow  made  too 
lonely  to  brave  the  sight  of  men,  too  timid 
to  front  the  simple  world  she  knew,  yet  val- 
iant enough  to  live  alone  with  her  poor 
insistent  human  nature  and  the  calms  and 
passions  of  the  sea  and  sky. 

The  birds  were  flying  all  about  the  field ; 
they  fluttered  up  out  of  the  grass  at  my  feet 
as  I walked  along,  so  tame  that  I liked  to 
think  they  kept  some  happy  tradition  from 


132  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

summer  to  summer  of  the  safety  of  nests 
and  good  fellowship  of  mankind.  Poor  J o- 
anna’s  house  was  gone  except  the  stones  of 
its  foundations,  and  there  was  little  trace  of 
her  flower  garden  except  a single  faded  sprig 
of  much-enduring  French  pinks,  which  a 
great  bee  and  a yellow  butterfly  were  be- 
friending together.  I drank  at  the  spring, 
and  thought  that  now  and  then  some  one 
would  follow  me  from  the  busy,  hard-worked, 
and  simple-thoughted  countryside  of  the 
mainland,  which  lay  dim  and  dreamlike 
in  the  August  haze,  as  Joanna  must  have 
watched  it  many  a day.  There  was  the 
world,  and  here  was  she  with  eternity  well 
begun.  In  the  life  of  each  of  us,  I said  to 
myself,  there  is  a place  remote  and  islanded, 
and  given  to  endless  regret  or  secret  happi- 
ness ; we  are  each  the  uncompanioned  hermit 
and  recluse  of  an  hour  or  a day ; we  under- 
stand our  fellows  of  the  cell  to  whatever  age 
of  history  they  may  belong. 

But  as  I stood  alone  on  the  island,  in  the 
sea-breeze,  suddenly  there  came  a sound  of 
distant  voices  ; gay  voices  and  laughter  from 
a pleasure-boat  that  was  going  seaward  full 
of  boys  and  girls.  I knew,  as  if  she  had 


ON  SHELL-HEAP  ISLAND.  133 

told  me,  that  poor  J oanna  must  have  heard 
the  like  on  many  and  many  a summer  after- 
noon, and  must  have  welcomed  the  good 
cheer  in  spite  of  hopelessness  and  winter 
weather,  and  all  the  sorrow  and  disappoint- 
ment in  the  world. 


XVI. 

THE  GREAT  EXPEDITION. 

Mrs.  Todd  never  by  any  chance  gave 
warning  over  night  of  her  great  projects  and 
adventures  by  sea  and  land.  She  first  came 
to  an  understanding  with  the  primal  forces 
of  nature,  and  never  trusted  to  any  prelimi- 
nary promise  of  good  weather,  but  exam- 
ined the  day  for  herself  in  its  infancy. 
Then,  if  the  stars  were  propitious,  and  the 
wind  blew  from  a quarter  of  good  inherit- 
ance whence  no  surprises  of  sea-turns  or 
southwest  sultriness  might  be  feared,  long 
before  I was  fairly  awake  I used  to  hear  a 
rustle  and  knocking  like  a great  mouse  in  the 
walls,  and  an  impatient  tread  on  the  steep 
garret  stairs  that  led  to  Mrs.  Todd’s  chief 
place  of  storage.  She  went  and  came  as  if 
she  had  already  started  on  her  expedition 
with  utmost  haste  and  kept  returning  for 
something  that  was  forgotten.  When  I ap- 
peared in  quest  of  my  breakfast,  she  would 


THE  GREAT  EXPEDITION. 


135 


be  absent-minded  and  sparing  of  speech,  as 
if  I had  displeased  her,  and  she  was  now,  by 
main  force  of  principle,  holding  herself  back 
from  altercation  and  strife  of  tongues. 

These  signs  of  a change  became  familiar 
to  me  in  the  course  of  time,  and  Mrs.  Todd 
hardly  noticed  some  plain  proofs  of  divina- 
tion one  August  morning  when  I said,  with- 
out preface,  that  I had  just  seen  the  Beggs’ 
best  chaise  go  by,  and  that  we  should  have 
to  take  the  grocery.  Mrs.  Todd  was  alert 
in  a moment. 

“ There  ! I might  have  known ! ” she  ex- 
claimed. “ It ’s  the  15th  of  August,  when 
he  goes  and  gets  his  money.  He  heired  an 
annuity  from  an  uncle  o’  his  on  his  mother’s 
side.  I understood  the  uncle  said  none  o’ 
Sam  Begg’s  wife’s  folks  should  make  free 
with  it,  so  after  Sam ’s  gone  it  ’ll  all  be  past 
an’  spent,  like  last  summer.  That ’s  what 
Sam  prospers  on  now,  if  you  can  call  it  pros- 
perin’. Yes,  I might  have  known.  ’T  is 
the  15th  o’  August  with  him,  an’  he  gener’ly 
stops  to  dinner  with  a cousin’s  widow  on  the 
way  home.  Feb’uary  an’  August  is  the 
times.  Takes  him  ’bout  all  day  to  go  an’ 
come.” 

I heard  this  explanation  with  interest. 


136  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

The  tone  of  Mrs.  Todd’s  voice  was  complain- 
ing at  the  last. 

44  I like  the  grocery  just  as  well  as  the 
chaise,”  I hastened  to  say,  referring  to  a 
long-bodied  high  wagon  with  a canopy-top, 
like  an  attenuated  four-posted  bedstead  on 
wheels,  in  which  we  sometimes  journeyed. 
“We  can  put  things  in  behind  — roots  and 
flowers  and  raspberries,  or  anything  you  are 
going  after  — much  better  than  if  we  had 
the  chaise.” 

Mrs.  Todd  looked  stony  and  unwilling. 
44 1 counted  upon  the  chaise,”  she  said,  turn- 
ing her  back  to  me,  and  roughly  pushing 
back  all  the  quiet  tumblers  on  the  cupboard 
shelf  as  if  they  had  been  impertinent. 
46  Yes,  I desired  the  chaise  for  once.  I ain’t 
goin’  berryin’  nor  to  fetch  home  no  more 
wilted  vegetation  this  year.  Season ’s  about 
past,  except  for  a poor  few  o’  late  things,” 
she  added  in  a milder  tone.  44 1 ’m  goin’  up 
country.  No,  I ain’t  intendin’  to  go  berryin’. 
I ’ve  been  plottin’  for  it  the  past  fortnight 
and  hopin’  for  a good  day.” 

44  Would  you  like  to  have  me  go  too?”  I 
asked  frankly,  but  not  without  a humble 
fear  that  I might  have  mistaken  the  purpose 
of  this  latest  plan. 


THE  GREAT  EXPEDITION. 


137 


“ Oil  certain,  dear ! ” answered  my  friend 
affectionately.  “ Oh  no,  I never  thought 
o’  any  one  else  for  comp’ny,  if  it ’s  conve- 
nient for  you,  long ’s  poor  mother  ain’t  come. 
I ain’t  nothin’  like  so  handy  with  a convey- 
ance as  I be  with  a good  bo’t.  Comes  o’  my 
early  bringing-up.  I expect  we ’ve  got  to 
make  that  great  high  wagon  do.  The  tires 
want  settin’  and  ’t  is  all  loose-jointed,  so  I 
can  hear  it  shackle  the  other  side  o’  the 
ridge.  We  ’ll  put  the  basket  in  front.  I 
ain’t  goin’  to  have  it  bouncin’  an’  twirlin’ 
all  the  way.  Why,  I ’ve  been  makin’  some 
nice  hearts  and  ’rounds  to  carry.” 

These  were  signs  of  high  festivity,  and 
my  interest  deepened  moment  by  moment. 

46 1 ’ll  go  down  to  the  Beggs’  and  get  the 
horse  just  as  soon  as  I finish  my  breakfast,” 
said  I.  “ Then  we  can  start  whenever  you 
are  ready.” 

Mrs.  Todd  looked  cloudy  again.  “ I 
don’t  know  but  you  look  nice  enough  to  go 
just  as  you  be,”  she  suggested  doubtfully. 
“ No,  you  would  n’t  want  to  wear  that  pretty 
blue  dress  o’  yourn  ’way  up  country.  ’T  ain’t 
dusty  now,  but  it  may  be  cornin’  home.  No, 
I expect  you ’d  rather  not  wear  that  and  the 
other  hat.” 


138  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

“ Oil  yes.  I should  n’t  think  of  wearing 
these  clothes,”  said  I,  with  sudden  illumina- 
tion. “ Why,  if  we  ’re  going  up  country 
and  are  likely  to  see  some  of  your  friends, 
I ’ll  put  on  my  blue  dress,  and  you  must 
wear  your  watch ; I am  not  going  at  all  if 
you  mean  to  wear  the  big  hat.” 

“ Now  you  ’re  behavin’  pretty,”  responded 
Mrs.  Todd,  with  a gay  toss  of  her  head  and 
a cheerful  smile,  as  she  came  across  the 
room,  bringing  a saucerful  of  wild  rasp- 
berries, a pretty  piece  of  salvage  from  sup- 
per-time. “ I was  cast  down  when  I see  you 
come  to  breakfast.  I did  n’t  think  ’t  was 
just  what  you ’d  select  to  wear  to  the  re- 
union, where  you  ’re  goin’  to  meet  every- 
body.” 

“ What  reunion  do  you  mean?”  I asked, 
not  without  amazement.  “ Not  the  Bowden 
Family’s  ? I thought  that  was  going  to 
take  place  in  September.” 

“ To-day ’s  the  day.  They  sent  word  the 
middle  o’  the  week.  I thought  you  might 
have  heard  of  it.  Yes,  they  changed  the 
day.  I been  thinkin’  we ’d  talk  it  over,  but 
you  never  can  tell  beforehand  how  it ’s  goin’ 
to  be,  and ’t  ain’t  worth  while  to  wear  a day 
all  out  before  it  comes.”  Mrs.  Todd  gave 


THE  GREAT  EXPEDITION.  139 

no  place  to  the  pleasures  of  anticipation,  but 
she  spoke  like  the  oracle  that  she  was.  “ I 
wish  mother  was  here  to  go,”  she  continued 
sadly.  “ I did  look  for  her  last  night,  and 
I could  n’t  keep  back  the  tears  when  the 
dark  really  fell  and  she  wa’n’t  here,  she  does 
so  enjoy  a great  occasion.  If  William  had 
a mite  o’  snap  an’  ambition,  he ’d  take  the 
lead  at  such  a time.  Mother  likes  variety, 
and  there  ain’t  but  a few  nice  opportuni- 
ties ’round  here,  an’  them  she  has  to  miss 
’less  she  contrives  to  get  ashore  to  me.  I 
do  re’lly  hate  to  go  to  the  reunion  without 
mother,  an’  ’t  is  a beautiful  day ; every- 
body ’ll  be  asking  where  she  is.  Once  she ’d 
have  got  here  anyway.  Poor  mother ’s  be- 
ginnin’  to  feel  her  age.” 

“ Why,  there ’s  your  mother  now  ! ” I ex- 
claimed with  joy,  I was  so  glad  to  see  the 
dear  old  soul  again.  “ I hear  her  voice  at 
the  gate.”  But  Mrs.  Todd  was  out  of  the 
door  before  me. 

There,  sure  enough,  stood  Mrs.  Blackett, 
who  must  have  left  Green  Island  before 
daylight.  She  had  climbed  the  steep  road 
from  the  water-side  so  eagerly  that  she  was 
out  of  breath,  and  was  standing  by  the  gar- 
den fence  to  rest.  She  held  an  old-fashioned 


140  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 


brown  wicker  cap-basket  in  her  hand,  as 
if  visiting  were  a thing  of  every  day,  and 
looked  up  at  us  as  pleased  and  triumphant 
as  a child. 

“ Oh,  what  a poor,  plain  garden  ! Hardly 
a flower  in  it  except  your  bush  o’  balm  ! ” 
she  said.  “ But  you  do  keep  your  garden 
neat,  Almiry.  Are  you  both  well,  an’  goin’ 
up  country  with  me  ? ” She  came  a step  or 
two  closer  to  meet  us,  with  quaint  polite- 
ness and  quite  as  delightful  as  if  she  were 
at  home.  She  dropped  a quick  little  curtsey 
before  Mrs.  Todd. 

“ There,  mother,  what  a girl  you  be  ! I 
am  so  pleased  ! I was  just  bewailin’  you,” 
said  the  daughter,  with  unwonted  feeling. 
“ I was  just  bewailin’  you,  I was  so  disap- 
pointed, an’  I kep’  myself  awake  a good 
piece  o’  the  night  scoldin’  poor  William.  I 
watched  for  the  boat  till  I was  ready  to  shed 
tears  yisterday,  and  when  ’t  was  cornin’ 
dark  I kep’  making  errands  out  to  the  gate 
an’  down  the  road  to  see  if  you  wa’n’t  in  the 
doldrums  somewhere  down  the  bay.” 

64  There  was  a head  wind,  as  you  know,” 
said  Mrs.  Blackett,  giving  me  the  cap-bas- 
ket, and  holding  my  hand  affectionately  as 
we  walked  up  the  clean-swept  path  to  the 


THE  GREAT  EXPEDITION . 


141 


door.  “ I was  partly  ready  to  come,  but 
dear  William  said  I should  be  all  tired  out 
and  might  get  cold,  havin’  to  beat  all  the 
way  in.  So  we  give  it  up,  and  set  down  and 
spent  the  evenin’  together.  It  was  a little 
rough  and  windy  outside,  and  I guess ’t  was 
better  judgment ; we  went  to  bed  very  early 
and  made  a good  start  just  at  daylight.  It ’s 
been  a lovely  mornin’  on  the  water.  Wil- 
liam thought  he ’d  better  fetch  across  be- 
yond Bird  Bocks,  rowin’  the  greater  part 
o’  the  way ; then  we  sailed  from  there  right 
over  to  the  Landin’,  makin’  only  one  tack. 
William  ’ll  be  in  again  for  me  to-morrow,  so 
I can  come  back  here  an’  rest  me  over  night, 
an’  go  to  meetin’  to-morrow,  and  have  a nice, 
good  visit.” 

“ She  was  just  havin’  her  breakfast,”  said 
Mrs.  Todd,  who  had  listened  eagerly  to  the 
long  explanation  without  a word  of  disap- 
proval, while  her  face  shone  more  and  more 
with  joy.  “You  just  sit  right  down  an’ 
have  a cup  of  tea  and  rest  you  while  we 
make  our  preparations.  Oh,  I am  so  grati- 
fied to  think  you  ’ve  come  ! Yes,  she  was 
just  havin’  her  breakfast,  and  we  were 
speakin’  of  you.  Where ’s  William  ? ” 

“ He  went  right  back  ; he  said  he  expected 


142  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

some  schooners  in  about  noon  after  bait,  but 
he  ’ll  come  an’  have  his  dinner  with  us  to- 
morrow, unless  it  rains  ; then  next  day.  I 
laid  his  best  things  out  all  ready,”  explained 
Mrs.  Blackett,  a little  anxiously.  “ This 
wind  will  serve  him  nice  all  the  way  home. 
Yes,  I will  take  a cup  of  tea,  dear,  — a cup 
of  tea  is  always  good ; and  then  I ’ll  rest  a 
minute  and  be  all  ready  to  start.” 

“I  do  feel  condemned  for  havin’  such 
hard  thoughts  o’  William,”  openly  confessed 
Mrs.  Todd.  She  stood  before  us  so  large 
and  serious  that  we  both  laughed  and  could 
not  find  it  in  our  hearts  to  convict  so  rueful 
a culprit.  “ He  shall  have  a good  dinner 
to-morrow,  if  it  can  be  got,  and  I shall  be 
real  glad  to  see  William,”  the  confession 
ended  handsomely,  while  Mrs.  Blackett 
smiled  approval  and  made  haste  to  praise 
the  tea.  Then  I hurried  away  to  make  sure 
of  the  grocery  wagon.  Whatever  might 
be  the  good  of  the  reunion,  I was  going  to 
have  the  pleasure  and  delight  of  a day  in 
Mrs.  Blackett’s  company,  not  to  speak  of 
Mrs.  Todd’s. 

The  early  morning  breeze  was  still  blow- 
ing, and  the  warm,  sunshiny  air  was  of 
some  ethereal  northern  sort,  with  a cool 


THE  GREAT  EXPEDITION. 


143 


freshness  as  if  it  came  over  new-fallen  snow. 
The  world  was  filled  with  a fragrance  of  fir- 
balsam  and  the  faintest  flavor  of  seaweed 
from  the  ledges,  bare  and  brown  at  low  tide 
in  the  little  harbor.  It  was  so  still  and  so 
early  that  the  village  was  but  half  awake. 
I could  hear  no  voices  but  those  of  the 
birds,  small  and  great,  — the  constant  song 
sparrows,  the  clink  of  a yellow  - hammer 
over  in  the  woods,  and  the  far  conversation 
of  some  deliberate  crows.  I saw  William 
Blackett’s  escaping  sail  already  far  from 
land,  and  Captain  Littlepage  was  sitting 
behind  his  closed  window  as  I passed  by, 
watching  for  some  one  who  never  came.  I 
tried  to  speak  to  him,  but  he  did  not  see  me. 
There  was  a patient  look  on  the  old  man’s 
face,  as  if  the  world  were  a great  mistake 
and  he  had  nobody  with  whom  to  speak  his 
own  language  or  find  companionship. 


XVII. 


A COUNTRY  ROAD. 

Whatever  doubts  and  anxieties  I may 
have  had  about  the  inconvenience  of  the 
Beggs’  high  wagon  for  a person  of  Mrs. 
Blackett’s  age  and  shortness,  they  were  hap- 
pily overcome  by  the  aid  of  a chair  and  her 
own  valiant  spirit.  Mrs.  Todd  bestowed 
great  care  upon  seating  us  as  if  we  were 
taking  passage  by  boat,  but  she  finally  pro- 
nounced that  we  were  properly  trimmed. 
When  we  had  gone  only  a little  way  up  the 
hill  she  remembered  that  she  had  left  the 
house  door  wide  open,  though  the  large  key 
was  safe  in  her  pocket.  I offered  to  run 
back,  but  my  offer  was  met  with  lofty  scorn, 
and  we  lightly  dismissed  the  matter  from 
our  minds,  until  two  or  three  miles  further 
on  we  met  the  doctor,  and  Mrs.  Todd  asked 
him  to  stop  and  ask  her  nearest  neighbor 
to  step  over  and  close  the  door  if  the  dust 
seemed  to  blow  in  the  afternoon. 


A COUNTRY  ROAD. 


145 


“ She  ’ll  be  there  in  her  kitchen ; she  ’ll 
hear  you  the  minute  you  call ; ’t  wont  give 
you  no  delay,”  said  Mrs.  Todd  to  the  doctor. 
“ Yes,  Mis’  Dennett ’s  right  there,  with  the 
windows  all  open.  It  is  n’t  as  if  my  fore 
door  opened  right  on  the  road,  anyway.” 
At  which  proof  of  composure  Mrs.  Blackett 
smiled  wisely  at  me. 

The  doctor  seemed  delighted  to  see  our 
guest ; they  were  evidently  the  warmest 
friends,  and  I saw  a look  of  affectionate 
confidence  in  their  eyes.  The  good  man 
left  his  carriage  to  speak  to  us,  but  as  he 
took  Mrs.  Blackett’s  hand  he  held  it  a mo- 
ment, and,  as  if  merely  from  force  of  habit, 
felt  her  pulse  as  they  talked  ; then  to  my 
delight  he  gave  the  firm  old  wrist  a com- 
mending pat. 

“ You  ’re  wearing  well : good  for  another 
ten  years  at  this  rate,”  he  assured  her  cheer- 
fully, and  she  smiled  back.  “ I like  to  keep 
a strict  account  of  my  old  stand-bys,”  and  he 
turned  to  me.  “ Don’t  you  let  Mrs.  Todd 
overdo  to-day,  — old  folks  like  her  are  apt  to 
be  thoughtless ; ” and  then  we  all  laughed, 
and,  parting,  went  our  ways  gayly. 

“ I suppose  he  puts  up  with  your  rivalry 
the  same  as  ever  ? ” asked  Mrs.  Blackett. 


146  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

“ You  and  he  are  as  friendly  as  ever,  I see, 
Almiry,”  and  Almira  sagely  nodded. 

“ He ’s  got  too  many  long  routes  now  to 
stop  to  ’tend  to  all  his  door  patients,”  she 
said,  “ especially  them  that  takes  pleasure 
in  talkin’  themselves  over.  The  doctor  and 
me  have  got  to  be  kind  of  partners ; he ’s 
gone  a good  deal,  far  an’  wide.  Looked 
tired,  did  n’t  he  ? I shall  have  to  advise 
with  him  an’  get  him  off  for  a good  rest. 
He  ’ll  take  the  big  boat  from  Rockland  an’ 
go  off  up  to  Boston  an’  mouse  round  among 
the  other  doctors,  once  in  two  or  three  years, 
and  come  home  fresh  as  a boy.  I guess 
they  think  consider’ble  of  him  up  there.” 
Mrs.  Todd  shook  the  reins  and  reached 
determinedly  for  the  whip,  as  if  she  were 
compelling  public  opinion. 

Whatever  energy  and  spirit  the  white  horse 
had  to  begin  with  were  soon  exhausted  by 
the  steep  hills  and  his  discernment  of  a long 
expedition  ahead.  We  toiled  slowly  along. 
Mrs.  Blackett  and  I sat  together,  and  Mrs. 
Todd  sat  alone  in  front  with  much  majesty 
and  the  large  basket  of  provisions.  Part 
of  the  way  the  road  was  shaded  by  thick 
woods,  but  we  also  passed  one  farmhouse 
after  another  on  the  high  uplands,  which 


A COUNTRY  ROAD. 


147 


we  all  three  regarded  with  deep  interest,  the 
house  itself  and  the  barns  and  garden-spots 
and  poultry  all  having  to  suffer  an  inspec- 
tion of  the  shrewdest  sort.  This  was  a high- 
way quite  new  to  me ; in  fact,  most  of  my 
journeys  with  Mrs.  Todd  had  been  made 
afoot  and  between  the  roads,  in  open  pasture- 
lands.  My  friends  stopped  several  times 
for  brief  dooryard  visits,  and  made  so  many 
promises  of  stopping  again  on  the  way  home 
that  I began  to  wonder  how  long  the  ex- 
pedition would  last.  I had  often  noticed 
how  warmly  Mrs.  Todd  was  greeted  by  her 
friends,  but  it  was  hardly  to  be  compared 
to  the  feeling  now  shown  toward  Mrs. 
Blackett.  A look  of  delight  came  to  the 
faces  of  those  who  recognized  the  plain,  dear 
old  figure  beside  me ; one  revelation  after 
another  was  made  of  the  constant  interest 
and  intercourse  that  had  linked  the  far 
island  and  these  scattered  farms  into  a golden 
chain  of  love  and  dependence. 

“ Now,  we  must  n’t  stop  again  if  we  can 
help  it,”  insisted  Mrs.  Todd  at  last.  “ You  ’ll 
get  tired,  mother,  and  you  ’ll  think  the  less  o’ 
reunions.  W e can  visit  along  here  any  day. 
There,  if  they  ain’t  frying  doughnuts  in 
this  next  house,  too ! These  are  new  folks, 


148  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

you  know,  from  over  St.  George  way ; they 
took  this  old  Talcot  farm  last  year.  ’T  is 
the  best  water  on  the  road,  and  the  check- 
rein  ’s  come  undone  — yes,  we  ’d  best  delay  a 
little  and  water  the  horse.” 

We  stopped,  and  seeing  a party  of  pleas- 
ure-seekers in  holiday  attire,  the  thin,  anx- 
ious mistress  of  the  farmhouse  came  out  with 
wistful  sympathy  to  hear  what  news  we  might 
have  to  give.  Mrs.  Blackett  first  spied  her 
at  the  half-closed  door,  and  asked  with  such 
cheerful  directness  if  we  were  trespassing 
that,  after  a few  words,  she  went  back  to 
her  kitchen  and  reappeared  with  a plateful 
of  doughnuts. 

“ Entertainment  for  man  and  beast,”  an- 
nounced Mrs.  Todd  with  satisfaction.  “ Why, 
we ’ve  perceived  there  was  new  doughnuts 
all  along  the  road,  but  you  ’re  the  first  that 
has  treated  us.” 

Our  new  acquaintance  flushed  with  pleas- 
ure, but  said  nothing. 

u They  ’re  very  nice ; you ’ve  had  good 
luck  with  ’em,”  pronounced  Mrs.  Todd. 
“ Yes,  we ’ve  observed  there  was  doughnuts 
all  the  way  along ; if  one  house  is  frying  all 
the  rest  is  ; ’t  is  so  with  a great  many  things.” 

“ I don’t  suppose  likely  you  ’re  goin’  up  to 


A COUNTRY  ROAD. 


149 


the  Bowden  reunion  ? ” asked  the  hostess  as 
the  white  horse  lifted  his  head  and  we  were 
saying  good-by. 

“ Why,  yes,”  said  Mrs.  Blackett  and  Mrs. 
Todd  and  I,  all  together. 

“I  am  connected  with  the  family.  Yes, 
I expect  to  be  there  this  afternoon.  I ’ye 
been  lookin’  forward  to  it,”  she  told  us 
eagerly. 

“ We  shall  see  you  there.  Come  and  sit 
with  us  if  it ’s  convenient,”  said  dear  Mrs. 
Blackett,  and  we  drove  away. 

“ I wonder  who  she  was  before  she  was 
married  ? ” said  Mrs.  Todd,  who  was  usually 
unerring  in  matters  of  genealogy.  44  She 
must  have  been  one  of  that  remote  branch 
that  lived  down  beyond  Thomaston.  W e can 
find  out  this  afternoon.  I expect  that  the 
families  ’ll  march  together,  or  be  sorted  out 
some  way.  I ’m  willing  to  own  a relation 
that  has  such  proper  ideas  of  doughnuts.” 

44 1 seem  to  see  the  family  looks,”  said 
Mrs.  Blackett.  44 1 wish  we ’d  asked  her 
name.  She ’s  a stranger,  and  I want  to  help 
make  it  pleasant  for  all  such.” 

44  She  resembles  Cousin  Pa’lina  Bowden 
about  the  forehead,”  said  Mrs.  Todd  with 
decision. 


150  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

We  had  just  passed  a piece  of  woodland 
that  shaded  the  road,  and  come  out  to  some 
open  fields  beyond,  when  Mrs.  Todd  sud- 
denly reined  in  the  horse  as  if  somebody  had 
stood  on  the  roadside  and  stopped  her.  She 
even  gave  that  quick  reassuring  nod  of  her 
head  which  was  usually  made  to  answer  for 
a bow,  but  I discovered  that  she  was  looking 
eagerly  at  a tall  ash-tree  that  grew  just  inside 
the  field  fence. 

“ I thought  ’t  was  goin’  to  do  well,”  she 
said  complacently  as  we  went  on  again. 
“ Last  time  I was  up  this  way  that  tree  was 
kind  of  drooping  and  discouraged.  Grown 
trees  act  that  way  sometimes,  same ’s  folks ; 
then  they  ’ll  put  right  to  it  and  strike  their 
roots  off  into  new  ground  and  start  all  over 
again  with  real  good  courage.  Ash-trees  is 
very  likely  to  have  poor  spells ; they  ain’t 
got  the  resolution  of  other  trees.” 

I listened  hopefully  for  more ; it  was  this 
peculiar  wisdom  that  made  one  value  Mrs. 
Todd’s  pleasant  company. 

“ There ’s  sometimes  a good  hearty  tree 
growin’  right  out  of  the  bare  rock,  out  o’ 
some  crack  that  just  holds  the  roots ; ” she 
went  on  to  say,  u right  on  the  pitch  o’  one  o’ 
them  bare  stony  hills  where  you  can’t  seem 


A COUNTRY  ROAD . 


151 


to  see  a wheel-barrowful  o’  good  earth  in  a 
place,  but  that  tree  ’ll  keep  a green  top  in  the 
driest  summer.  You  lay  your  ear  down  to 
the  ground  an’  you’ll  hear  a little  stream 
runnin’.  Every  such  tree  has  got  its  own 
livin’  spring:  there’s  folks  made  to  match 
’em.” 

I could  not  help  turning  to  look  at  Mrs. 
Blackett,  close  beside  me.  Her  hands  were 
clasped  placidly  in  their  thin  black  woolen 
gloves,  and  she  was  looking  at  the  flowery 
wayside  as  we  went  slowly  along,  with  a 
pleased,  expectant  smile.  I do  not  think  she 
had  heard  a word  about  the  trees. 

“ I just  saw  a nice  plant  o’  elecampane 
growin’  back  there,”  she  said  presently  to 
her  daughter. 

“ I haven’t  got  my  mind  on  herbs  to- 
day,” responded  Mrs.  Todd,  in  the  most 
matter-of-fact  way.  “ I ’m  bent  on  seeing 
folks,”  and  she  shook  the  reins  again. 

I for  one  had  no  wish  to  hurry,  it  was  so 
pleasant  in  the  shady  roads.  The  woods 
stood  close  to  the  road  on  the  right ; on  the 
left  were  narrow  fields  and  pastures  where 
there  were  as  many  acres  of  spruces  and 
pines  as  there  were  acres  of  bay  and  juniper 
and  huckleberry,  with  a little  turf  between. 


152  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

When  I thought  we  were  in  the  heart  of 
the  inland  country,  we  reached  the  top  of 
a hill,  and  suddenly  there  lay  spread  out 
before  us  a wonderful  great  view  of  well- 
cleared  fields  that  swept  down  to  the  wide 
water  of  a bay.  Beyond  this  were  distant 
shores  like  another  country  in  the  midday 
haze  which  half  hid  the  hills  beyond,  and  the 
far-away  pale  blue  mountains  on  the  north- 
ern horizon.  There  was  a schooner  with 
all  sails  set  coming  down  the  bay  from  a 
white  village  that  was  sprinkled  on  the  shore, 
and  there  were  many  sailboats  flitting  about. 
It  was  a noble  landscape,  and  my  eyes, 
which  had  grown  used  to  the  narrow  inspec- 
tion of  a shaded  roadside,  could  hardly  take 
it  in. 

“ Why,  it ’s  the  upper  bay,”  said  Mrs. 
Todd.  “You  can  see  ’way  over  into  the 
town  of  Fessenden.  Those  farms  ’way  over 
there  are  all  in  Fessenden.  Mother  used  to 
have  a sister  that  lived  up  that  shore.  If 
we  started  as  early  ’s  we  could  on  a summer 
mornin’,  we  could  n’t  get  to  her  place  from 
Green  Island  till  late  afternoon,  even  with 
a fair,  steady  breeze,  and  you  had  to  strike 
the  time  just  right  so  as  to  fetch  up  ’long  o’ 
the  tide  and  land  near  the  flood.  ’T  was 


A COUNTRY  ROAD. 


153 


ticklish  business,  an’  we  did  n’t  visit  back 
an’  forth  as  much  as  mother  desired.  You 
have  to  go  ’way  down  the  co’st  to  Cold 
Spring  Light  an’  round  that  long  point,  — 
up  here ’s  what  they  call  the  Back  Shore.” 

“ No,  we  were  ’most  always  separated,  my 
dear  sister  and  me,  after  the  first  year  she 
was  married,”  said  Mrs.  Blackett.  “We 
had  our  little  families  an’  plenty  o’  cares. 
We  were  always  lookin’  forward  to  the  time 
we  could  see  each  other  more.  Now  and 
then  she ’d  get  out  to  the  island  for  a few 
days  while  her  husband ’d  go  fishin’  ; and 
once  he  stopped  with  her  an’  two  children, 
and  made  him  some  flakes  right  there  and 
cured  all  his  fish  for  winter.  We  did  have 
a beautiful  time  together,  sister  an’  me ; she 
used  to  look  back  to  it  long ’s  she  lived.” 

“ I do  love  to  look  over  there  where  she 
used  to  live,”  Mrs.  Blackett  went  on  as  we 
began  to  go  down  the  hill.  “ It  seems  as  if 
she  must  still  be  there,  though  she ’s  long 
been  gone.  She  loved  their  farm,  — she 
did  n’t  see  how  I got  so  used  to  our  island ; 
but  somehow  I was  always  happy  from  the 
first.” 

“ Yes,  it ’s  very  dull  to  me  up  among 
those  slow  farms,”  declared  Mrs.  Todd. 


154  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

“ The  snow  troubles  ’em  in  winter.  They  ’re 
all  besieged  by  winter,  as  you  may  say ; ’t  is 
far  better  by  the  shore  than  up  among  such 
places.  I never  thought  I should  like  to 
live  up  country.” 

“ Why,  just  see  the  carriages  ahead  of  us 
on  the  next  rise ! ” exclaimed  Mrs.  Blackett. 
“ There ’s  going  to  be  a great  gathering, 
don’t  you  believe  there  is,  Almiry  ? It  has  n’t 
seemed  up  to  now  as  if  anybody  was  going 
but  us.  An’  ’t  is  such  a beautiful  day,  with 
yesterday  cool  and  pleasant  to  work  an’  get 
ready,  I should  n’t  wonder  if  everybody 
was  there,  even  the  slow  ones  like  Phebe 
Ann  Brock.” 

Mrs.  Blackett’s  eyes  were  bright  with 
excitement,  and  even  Mrs.  Todd  showed 
remarkable  enthusiasm.  She  hurried  the 
horse  and  caught  up  with  the  holiday-makers 
ahead.  “ There ’s  all  the  Dep’fords  goin’, 
six  in  the  wagon,”  she  told  us  joyfully  ; “ an’ 
Mis’  Alva  Tilley’s  folks  are  now  risin’  the 
hill  in  their  new  carryall.” 

Mrs.  Blackett  pulled  at  the  neat  bow  of 
her  black  bonnet  - strings,  and  tied  them 
again  with  careful  precision.  “ I believe 
your  bonnet ’s  on  a little  bit  sideways,  dear,” 
she  advised  Mrs.  Todd  as  if  she  were  a 


A COUNTRY  ROAD . 


155 


child ; but  Mrs.  Todd  was  too  much  occu- 
pied to  pay  proper  heed.  We  began  to  feel 
a new  sense  of  gayety  and  of  taking  part 
in  the  great  occasion  as  we  joined  the  little 
train. 


XVIII. 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION. 

It  is  very  rare  in  country  life,  where  high 
days  and  holidays  are  few,  that  any  occasion 
of  general  interest  proves  to  be  less  than 
great.  Such  is  the  hidden  fire  of  enthusi- 
asm in  the  New  England  nature  that,  once 
given  an  outlet,  it  shines  forth  with  almost 
volcanic  light  and  heat.  In  quiet  neighbor- 
hoods such  inward  force  does  not  waste  itself 
upon  those  petty  excitements  of  every  day 
that  belong  to  cities,  but  when,  at  long  inter- 
vals, the  altars  to  patriotism,  to  friendship, 
to  the  ties  of  kindred,  are  reared  in  our 
familiar  fields,  then  the  fires  glow,  the  flames 
come  up  as  if  from  the  inexhaustible  burn- 
ing heart  of  the  earth;  the  primal  fires 
break  through  the  granite  dust  in  which  our 
souls  are  set.  Each  heart  is  warm  and  every 
face  shines  with  the  ancient  light.  Such  a 
day  as  this  has  transfiguring  powers,  and 
easily  makes  friends  of  those  who  have  been 
cold-hearted,  and  gives  to  those  who  are 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION.  157 

dumb  their  chance  to  speak,  and  lends  some 
beauty  to  the  plainest  face. 

44  Oh,  I expect  I shall  meet  friends  to- 
day that  I have  n’t  seen  in  a long  while,” 
said  Mrs.  Blackett  with  deep  satisfaction. 
44  ’T  will  bring  out  a good  many  of  the  old 
folks,  ’t  is  such  a lovely  day.  I ’m  always 
glad  not  to  have  them  disappointed.” 

44 1 guess  likely  the  best  of  ’em  ’ll  be 
there,”  answered  Mrs.  Todd  with  gentle 
humor,  stealing  a glance  at  me.  44  There ’s 
one  thing  certain  : there ’s  nothing  takes  in 
this  whole  neighborhood  like  anything  re- 
lated to  the  Bowdens.  Yes,  I do  feel  that 
when  you  call  upon  the  Bowdens  you  may 
expect  most  families  to  rise  up  between  the 
Landing  and  the  far  end  of  the  Back  Cove. 
Those  that  are  n’t  kin  by  blood  are  kin  by 
marriage.” 

44  There  used  to  be  an  old  story  goin’ 
about  when  I was  a girl,”  said  Mrs.  Blackett, 
with  much  amusement.  44  There  was  a great 
many  more  Bowdens  then  than  there  are 
now,  and  the  folks  was  all  setting  in  meeting 
a dreadful  hot  Sunday  afternoon,  and  a scat- 
ter-witted  little  bound  girl  came  running  to 
the  meetin’-house  door  all  out  o’  breath  from 
somewheres  in  the  neighborhood.  4 Mis’ 


158  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

Bowden,  Mis’  Bowden  ! ’ says  she.  4 Your 
baby  ’s  in  a fit ! ’ They  used  to  tell  that  the 
whole  congregation  was  up  on  its  feet  in  a 
minute  and  right  out  into  the  aisles.  All 
the  Mis’  Bowdens  was  setting  right  out  for 
home ; the  minister  stood  there  in  the  pulpit 
trying’  to  keep  sober,  an’  all  at  once  he  burst 
right  out  laughin’.  He  was  a very  nice  man, 
they  said,  and  he  said  he ’d  better  give  ’em 
the  benediction,  and  they  could  hear  the  ser- 
mon next  Sunday,  so  he  kept  it  over.  My 
mother  was  there,  and  she  thought  certain 
’t  was  me.” 

44  None  of  our  family  was  ever  subject  to 
fits,”  interrupted  Mrs.  Todd  severely.  44  No, 
we  never  had  fits,  none  of  us,  and ’t  was 
lucky  we  did  n’t  ’way  out  there  to  Green 
Island.  Now  these  folks  right  in  front: 
dear  sakes  knows  the  bunches  o’  soothing 
catnip  an’  yarrow  I ’ve  had  to  favor  old 
Mis’  Evins  with  dryin’ ! You  can  see  it 
right  in  their  expressions,  all  them  Evins 
folks.  There,  just  you  look  up  to  the  cross- 
roads, mother,”  she  suddenly  exclaimed. 
44  See  all  the  teams  ahead  of  us.  And  oh, 
look  down  on  the  bay ; yes,  look  down  on 
the  bay ! See  what  a sight  o’  boats,  all 
headin’  for  the  Bowden  place  cove ! ” 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION. 


159 


“ Oh,  ain’t  it  beautiful ! ” said  Mrs.  Black- 
ett, with  all  the  delight  of  a girl.  She  stood 
up  in  the  high  wagon  to  see  everything,  and 
when  she  sat  down  again  she  took  fast  hold 
of  my  hand. 

“ Had  n’t  you  better  urge  the  horse  a little, 
Almiry  ? ” she  asked.  “ He ’s  had  it  easy 
as  we  came  along,  and  he  can  rest  when  we 
get  there.  The  others  are  some  little  ways 
ahead,  and  I don’t  want  to  lose  a minute.” 

We  watched  the  boats  drop  their  sails  one 
by  one  in  the  cove  as  we  drove  along  the 
high  land.  The  old  Bowden  house  stood, 
low-storied  and  broad-roofed,  in  its  green 
fields  as  if  it  were  a motherly  brown  hen 
waiting  for  the  flock  that  came  straying 
toward  it  from  every  direction.  The  first 
Bowden  settler  had  made  his  home  there, 
and  it  was  still  the  Bowden  farm ; five  gen- 
erations of  sailors  and  farmers  and  soldiers 
had  been  its  children.  And  presently  Mrs. 
Blackett  showed  me  the  stone-walled  bury- 
ing-ground  that  stood  like  a little  fort  on  a 
knoll  overlooking  the  bay,  but,  as  she  said, 
there  were  plenty  of  scattered  Bowdens  who 
were  not  laid  there,  — some  lost  at  sea,  and 
some  out  West,  and  some  who  died  in  the 
war ; most  of  the  home  graves  were  those  of 
women. 


160  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

We  could  see  now  that  there  were  differ- 
ent footpaths  from  along  shore  and  across 
country.  In  all  these  there  were  straggling 
processions  walking  in  single  file,  like  old 
illustrations  of  the  Pilgrim’s  Progress.  There 
was  a crowd  about  the  house  as  if  huge  bees 
were  swarming  in  the  lilac  bushes.  Beyond 
the  fields  and  cove  a higher  point  of  land 
ran  out  into  the  bay,  covered  with  woods 
which  must  have  kept  away  much  of  the 
northwest  wind  in  winter.  Now  there  was  a 
pleasant  look  of  shade  and  shelter  there  for 
the  great  family  meeting. 

W e hurried  on  our  way,  beginning  to  feel 
as  if  we  were  very  late,  and  it  was  a great 
satisfaction  at  last  to  turn  out  of  the  stony 
highroad  into  a green  lane  shaded  with  old 
apple  - trees.  Mrs.  Todd  encouraged  the 
horse  until  he  fairly  pranced  with  gayety 
as  we  drove  round  to  the  front  of  the  house 
on  the  soft  turf.  There  was  an  instant  cry 
of  rejoicing,  and  two  or  three  persons  ran 
toward  us  from  the  busy  group. 

“ Why,  dear  Mis’  Blackett ! — here ’s  Mis’ 
Blackett ! ” I heard  them  say,  as  if  it  were 
pleasure  enough  for  one  day  to  have  a sight 
of  her.  Mrs.  Todd  turned  to  me  with  a 
lovely  look  of  triumph  and  self-forgetfulness. 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION. 


161 


An  elderly  man  who  wore  the  look  of  a pros- 
perous sea-captain  put  up  both  arms  and 
lifted  Mrs.  Blackett  down  from  the  high 
wagon  like  a child,  and  kissed  her  with 
hearty  affection.  64 1 was  master  afraid  she 
would  n’t  be  here,”  he  said,  looking  at  Mrs. 
Todd  with  a face  like  a happy  sunburnt 
schoolboy,  while  everybody  crowded  round 
to  give  their  welcome. 

44  Mother ’s  always  the  queen,”  said  Mrs. 
Todd.  44  Yes,  they  ’ll  all  make  everything 
of  mother ; she  ’ll  have  a lovely  time  to-day. 
I would  n’t  have  had  her  miss  it,  and  there 
won’t  be  a thing  she  ’ll  ever  regret,  except 
to  mourn  because  William  wa’n’t  here.” 

Mrs.  Blackett  having  been  proj)erly  es- 
corted to  the  house,  Mrs.  Todd  received  her 
own  full  share  of  honor,  and  some  of  the 
men,  with  a simple  kindness  that  was  the 
soul  of  chivalry,  waited  upon  us  and  our 
baskets  and  led  away  the  white  horse.  I 
already  knew  some  of  Mrs.  Todd’s  friends 
and  kindred,  and  felt  like  an  adopted  Bow- 
den in  this  happy  moment.  It  seemed  to 
be  enough  for  any  one  to  have  arrived  by 
the  same  conveyance  as  Mrs.  Blackett,  who 
presently  had  her  court  inside  the  house, 
while  Mrs.  Todd,  large,  hospitable,  and  pre- 


162  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

eminent,  was  the  centre  of  a rapidly  increas- 
ing crowd  about  the  lilac  bushes.  Small 
companies  were  continually  coming  up  the 
long  green  slope  from  the  water,  and  nearly 
all  the  boats  had  come  to  shore.  I counted 
three  or  four  that  were  baffled  by  the  light 
breeze,  but  before  long  all  the  Bowdens, 
small  and  great,  seemed  to  have  assembled, 
and  we  started  to  go  up  to  the  grove  across 
the  field. 

Out  of  the  chattering  crowd  of  noisy  chil- 
dren, and  large-waisted  women  whose  best 
black  dresses  fell  straight  to  the  ground  in 
generous  folds,  and  sunburnt  men  who  looked 
as  serious  as  if  it  were  town-meeting  day, 
there  suddenly  came  silence  and  order.  I 
saw  the  straight,  soldierly  little  figure  of  a 
man  who  bore  a fine  resemblance  to  Mrs. 
Blackett,  and  who  appeared  to  marshal  us 
with  perfect  ease.  He  was  imperative  enough, 
but  with  a grand  military  sort  of  courtesy, 
and  bore  himself  with  solemn  dignity  of  im- 
portance. We  were  sorted  out  according  to 
some  clear  design  of  his  own,  and  stood  as 
speechless  as  a troop  to  await  his  orders. 
Even  the  children  were  ready  to  march 
together,  a pretty  flock,  and  at  the  last  mo- 
ment Mrs.  Blackett  and  a few  distinguished 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION 


163 


companions,  the  ministers  and  those  who 
were  very  old,  came  out  of  the  house  together 
and  took  their  places.  We  ranked  by  fours, 
and  even  then  we  made  a long  procession. 

There  was  a wide  path  mowed  for  us 
across  the  field,  and,  as  we  moved  along,  the 
birds  flew  up  out  of  the  thick  second  crop 
of  clover,  and  the  bees  hummed  as  if  it  still 
were  June.  There  was  a flashing  of  white 
gulls  over  the  water  where  the  fleet  of  boats 
rode  the  low  waves  together  in  the  cove, 
swaying  their  small  masts  as  if  they  kept 
time  to  our  steps.  The  plash  of  the  water 
could  be  heard  faintly,  yet  still  be  heard ; 
we  might  have  been  a company  of  ancient 
Greeks  going  to  celebrate  a victory,  or  to 
worship  the  god  of  harvests  in  the  grove 
above.  It  was  strangely  moving  to  see  this 
and  to  make  part  of  it.  The  sky,  the  sea, 
have  watched  poor  humanity  at  its  rites  so 
long ; we  were  no  more  a New  England  fam- 
ily celebrating  its  own  existence  and  simple 
progress ; we  carried  the  tokens  and  inher- 
itance of  all  such  households  from  which 
this  had  descended,  and  were  only  the  latest 
of  our  line.  We  possessed  the  instincts  of 
a far,  forgotten  childhood ; I found  myself 
thinking  that  we  ought  to  be  carrying  green 


164  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

branches  and  singing  as  we  went.  So  we 
came  to  the  thick  shaded  grove  still  silent, 
and  were  set  in  our  places  by  the  straight 
trees  that  swayed  together  and  let  sunshine 
through  here  and  there  like  a single  golden 
leaf  that  flickered  down,  vanishing  in  the 
cool  shade. 

The  grove  was  so  large  that  the  great 
family  looked  far  smaller  than  it  had  in  the 
open  field ; there  was  a thick  growth  of  dark 
pines  and  firs  with  an  occasional  maple  or 
oak  that  gave  a gleam  of  color  like  a bright 
window  in  the  great  roof.  On  three  sides 
we  could  see  the  water,  shining  behind  the 
tree -trunks,  and  feel  the  cool  salt  breeze 
that  began  to  come  up  with  the  tide  just  as 
the  day  reached  its  highest  point  of  heat. 
We  could  see  the  green  sunlit  field  we  had 
just  crossed  as  if  we  looked  out  at  it  from 
a dark  room,  and  the  old  house  and  its  lilacs 
standing  placidly  in  the  sun,  and  the  great 
barn  with  a stockade  of  carriages  from  which 
two  or  three  care-taking  men  who  had  lin- 
gered were  coming  across  the  field  together. 
Mrs.  Todd  had  taken  off  her  warm  gloves 
and  looked  the  picture  of  content. 

“ There ! ” she  exclaimed.  “ I ’ve  always 
meant  to  have  you  see  this  place,  but  I never 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION 


165 


looked  for  such  a beautiful  opportunity  — 
weather  an’  occasion  both  made  to  match. 
Yes,  it  suits  me : I don’t  ask  no  more.  I 
want  to  know  if  you  saw  mother  walkin’  at 
the  head!  It  choked  me  right  up  to  see 
mother  at  the  head,  walkin’  with  the  minis- 
ters,” and  Mrs.  Todd  turned  away  to  hide 
the  feelings  she  could  not  instantly  control. 

“ Who  was  the  marshal  ? ” I hastened  to 
ask.  “ Was  he  an  old  soldier?  ” 

“ Don’t  he  do  well  ? ” answered  Mrs.  Todd 
with  satisfaction. 

“ He  don’t  often  have  such  a chance  to 
show  off  his  gifts,”  said  Mrs.  Caplin,  a 
friend  from  the  Landing  who  had  joined  us. 
“ That ’s  Sant  Bowden ; he  always  takes  the 
lead,  such  days.  Good  for  nothing  else  most 
o’  his  time ; trouble  is,  he  ” — 

I turned  with  interest  to  hear  the  worst. 
Mrs.  Caplin’s  tone  was  both  zealous  and  im- 
pressive. 

“ Stimulates,”  she  explained  scornfully. 

“ No,  Santin  never  was  in  the  war,”  said 
Mrs.  Todd  with  lofty  indifference.  “ It  was 
a cause  of  real  distress  to  him.  He  kep’  en- 
listin’, and  traveled  far  an’  wide  about  here, 
an’  even  took  the  bo’t  and  went  to  Boston 
to  volunteer ; but  he  ain’t  a sound  man,  an’ 


166  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

they  would  n’t  have  him.  They  say  he  knows 
all  their  tactics,  an’  can  tell  all  about  the 
battle  o’  Waterloo  well ’s  he  can  Bunker 
Hill.  I told  him  once  the  country ’d  lost  a 
great  general,  an’  I meant  it,  too.” 

“ I expect  you  ’re  near  right,”  said  Mrs. 
Caplin,  a little  crestfallen  and  apologetic. 

66 1 be  right,”  insisted  Mrs.  Todd  with 
much  amiability.  “ ’T  was  most  too  bad  to 
cramp  him  down  to  his  peaceful  trade,  but 
he ’s  a most  excellent  shoemaker  at  his  best, 
an’  he  always  says  it ’s  a trade  that  gives 
him  time  to  think  an’  plan  his  manoeuvres. 
Over  to  the  Port  they  always  invite  him  to 
march  Decoration  Day,  same  as  the  rest, 
an’  he  does  look  noble ; he  comes  of  soldier 
stock.” 

I had  been  noticing  with  great  interest 
the  curiously  French  type  of  face  which 
prevailed  in  this  rustic  company.  I had 
said  to  myself  before  that  Mrs.  Blackett  was 
plainly  of  French  descent,  in  both  her  ap- 
pearance and  her  charming  gifts,  but  this  is 
not  surprising  when  one  has  learned  how 
large  a proportion  of  the  early  settlers  on 
this  northern  coast  of  New  England  were  of 
Huguenot  blood,  and  that  it  is  the  Norman 
Englishman,  not  the  Saxon,  who  goes  adven- 
turing to  a new  world. 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION. 


167 


“ They  used  to  say  in  old  times,”  said 
Mrs.  Todd  modestly,  “ that  our  family  came 
of  very  high  folks  in  France,  and  one  of  ’em 
was  a great  general  in  some  o’  the  old  wars. 
I sometimes  think  that  Santin’s  ability  has 
come  ’way  down  from  then.  ’T  ain’t  nothin’ 
he ’s  ever  acquired ; ’t  was  born  in  him.  I 
don’t  know ’s  he  ever  saw  a fine  parade,  or 
met  with  those  that  studied  up  such  things. 
He ’s  figured  it  all  out  an’  got  his  papers 
so  he  knows  how  to  aim  a cannon  right 
for  William’s  fish-house  five  miles  out  on 
Green  Island,  or  up  there  on  Burnt  Island 
where  the  signal  is.  He  had  it  all  over 
to  me  one  day,  an’  I tried  hard  to  appear 
interested.  His  life ’s  all  in  it,  but  he  will 
have  those  poor  gloomy  spells  come  over 
him  now  an’  then,  an’  then  he  has  to  drink.” 

Mrs.  Caplin  gave  a heavy  sigh. 

“ There ’s  a great  many  such  strayaway 
folks,  just  as  there  is  plants,”  continued  Mrs. 
Todd,  who  was  nothing  if  not  botanical.  “ I 
know  of  just  one  sprig  of  laurel  that  grows 
over  back  here  in  a wild  spot,  an’  I never 
could  hear  of  no  other  on  this  coast.  I had 
a large  bunch  brought  me  once  from  Massa- 
chusetts way,  so  I know  it.  This  piece  grows 
in  an  open  spot  where  you ’d  think ’t  would 


168  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

do  well,  but  it ’s  sort  o’  poor-lookin’.  I ’ve 
visited  it  time  an’  again,  just  to  notice  its 
poor  blooms.  ’T  is  a real  Sant  Bowden,  out 
of  its  own  place.” 

Mrs.  Caplin  looked  bewildered  and 
blank.  “ Well,  all  I know  is,  last  year  he 
worked  out  some  kind  of  a plan  so ’s  to 
parade  the  county  conference  in  platoons, 
and  got  ’em  all  flustered  up  tryin’  to  sense 
his  ideas  of  a holler  square,”  she  burst  forth, 
“ They  was  holler  enough  anyway  after 
ridin’  ’way  down  from  up  country  into  the 
salt  air,  and  they ’d  been  treated  to  a sermon 
on  faith  an’  works  from  old  Fayther  Harlow 
that  never  knows  when  to  cease.  ’T  wa’n’t 
no  time  for  tactics  then,  — they  wa’n’t 
a-thinkin’  of  the  church  military.  Sant,  he 
could  n’t  do  nothin’  with  ’em.  All  he  thinks 
of,  when  he  sees  a crowd,  is  how  to  march 
’em.  ’T  is  all  very  well  when  he  don’t 
’tempt  too  much.  He  never  did  act  like 
other  folks.” 

“ Ain’t  I just  been  maintainin’  that  he 
ain’t  like  ’em?  ” urged  Mrs.  Todd  decidedly. 
“ Strange  folks  has  got  to  have  strange  ways, 
for  what  I see.” 

“ Somebody  observed  once  that  you  could 
pick  out  the  likeness  of  ’most  every  sort  of 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION . 


169 


a foreigner  when  you  looked  about  you  in 
our  parish,”  said  Sister  Caplin,  her  face 
brightening  with  sudden  illumination.  “ I 
did  n’t  see  the  bearin’  of  it  then  quite  so 
plain.  I always  did  think  Mari’  Harris 
resembled  a Chinee.” 

“Mari’  Harris  was  pretty  as  a child,  I 
remember,”  said  the  pleasant  voice  of  Mrs. 
Blackett,  who,  after  receiving  the  affection- 
ate greetings  of  nearly  the  whole  company, 
came  to  join  us,  — to  see,  as  she  insisted, 
that  we  were  out  of  mischief. 

“ Yes,  Mari’  was  one  o’  them  pretty  little 
lambs  that  make  dreadful  homely  old  sheep,” 
replied  Mrs.  Todd  with  energy.  “ Cap’n 
Littlepage  never ’d  look  so  disconsolate  if 
she  was  any  sort  of  a proper  person  to  direct 
things.  She  might  divert  him ; yes,  she 
might  divert  the  old  gentleman,  an’  let  him 
think  he  had  his  own  way,  ’stead  o’  argu- 
ing everything  down  to  the  bare  bone. 
’T  would  n’t  hurt  her  to  sit  down  an’  hear 
his  great  stories  once  in  a while.” 

“ The  stories  are  very  interesting,”  I ven- 
tured to  say. 

“ Yes,  you  always  catch  yourself  a-thinkin’ 
what  if  they  was  all  true,  and  he  had  the 
right  of  it,”  answered  Mrs.  Todd.  “ He ’s  a 


170  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

good  sight  better  company,  though  dreamy, 
than  such  sordid  creatur’s  as  Mari’  Har- 
ris.” 

“Live  and  let  live,”  said  dear  old  Mrs. 
Blackett  gently.  “ I have  n’t  seen  the  cap- 
tain for  a good  while,  now  that  I ain’t  so 
constant  to  meetin’,”  she  added  wistfully. 
“We  always  have  known  each  other.” 

“ Why,  if  it  is  a good  pleasant  day  to- 
morrow, I ’ll  get  William  to  call  an’  invite 
the  capt’in  to  dinner.  William  ’ll  be  in 
early  so ’s  to  pass  up  the  street  without 
meetin’  anybody.” 

“ There,  they  ’re  callin’  out  it ’s  time  to 
set  the  tables,”  said  Mrs.  Caplin,  with  great 
excitement. 

“Here’s  Cousin  Sarah  Jane  Blackett! 
Well,  I am  pleased,  certain ! ” exclaimed 
Mrs.  Todd,  with  unaffected  delight ; and 
these  kindred  spirits  met  and  parted  with 
the  promise  of  a good  talk  later  on.  After 
this  there  was  no  more  time  for  conversa- 
tion until  we  were  seated  in  order  at  the 
long  tables. 

“ I ’m  one  that  always  dreads  seeing  some 
o’  the  folks  that  I don’t  like,  at  such  a time 
as  this,”  announced  Mrs.  Todd  privately  to 
me  after  a season  of  reflection.  We  were 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION. 


171 


just  waiting  for  the  feast  to  begin.  “ You 
would  n’t  think  such  a great  creatur’  ’s  I 
be  could  feel  all  over  pins  an’  needles.  I 
remember,  the  day  I promised  to  Nathan, 
how  it  come  over  me,  just ’s  I was  feelin’ 
happy ’s  I could,  that  I ’d  got  to  have  an 
own  cousin  o’  his  for  my  near  relation  all 
the  rest  o’  my  life,  an’  it  seemed  as  if  die  I 
should.  Poor  Nathan  saw  somethin’  had 
crossed  me,  — he  had  very  nice  feelings,  — 
and  when  he  asked  me  what  ’t  was,  I told 
him.  c I never  could  like  her  myself,’  said 
he.  c You  sha’n’t  be  bothered,  dear,’  he 
says  ; an’  ’t  was  one  o’  the  things  that  made 
me  set  a good  deal  by  Nathan,  he  didn’t 
make  a habit  of  always  opposin’,  like  some 
men.  4 Yes,’  says  I,  6 but  think  o’  Thanks- 
givin’  times  an’  funerals  ; she ’s  our  relation, 
an’  we ’ve  got  to  own  her.’  Young  folks 
don’t  think  o’  those  things.  There  she  goes 
now,  do  let ’s  pray  her  by ! ” said  Mrs.  Todd, 
with  an  alarming  transition  from  general 
opinions  to  particular  animosities.  66 1 hate 
her  just  the  same  as  I always  did;  but 
she ’s  got  on  a real  pretty  dress.  I do  try 
to  remember  that  she ’s  Nathan’s  cousin. 
Oh  dear,  well ; she ’s  gone  by  after  all,  an’ 
ain’t  seen  me.  I expected  she  ’d  come 


172  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

pleasantin’  round  just  to  show  off  an’  say 
afterwards  she  was  acquainted.” 

This  was  so  different  from  Mrs.  Todd’s 
usual  largeness  of  mind  that  I had  a mo- 
ment’s uneasiness ; but  the  cloud  passed 
quickly  over  her  spirit,  and  was  gone  with 
the  offender. 

There  never  was  a more  generous  out-of- 
door  feast  along  the  coast  than  the  Bowden 
family  set  forth  that  day.  To  call  it  a pic- 
nic would  make  it  seem  trivial.  The  great 
tables  were  edged  with  pretty  oak-leaf  trim- 
ming, which  the  boys  and  girls  made.  We 
brought  flowers  from  the  fence-thickets  of 
the  great  field ; and  out  of  the  disorder  of 
flowers  and  provisions  suddenly  appeared 
as  orderly  a scheme  for  the  feast  as  the  mar- 
shal had  shaped  for  the  procession.  I began 
to  respect  the  Bowdens  for  their  inheritance 
of  good  taste  and  skill  and  a certain  pleasing 
gift  of  formality.  Something  made  them  do 
all  these  things  in  a finer  way  than  most 
country  people  would  have  done  them.  As 
I looked  up  and  down  the  tables  there  was 
a good  cheer,  a grave  soberness  that  shone 
with  pleasure,  a humble  dignity  of  bearing. 
There  were  some  who  should  have  sat  below 


THE  BOWDEN  REUNION. 


173 


the  salt  for  lack  of  this  good  breeding ; but 
they  were  not  many.  So,  I said  to  myself, 
their  ancestors  may  have  sat  in  the  great 
hall  of  some  old  French  house  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  when  battles  and  sieges  and  proces- 
sions and  feasts  were  familiar  things.  The 
ministers  and  Mrs.  Blackett,  with  a few  of 
their  rank  and  age,  were  put  in  places  of 
honor,  and  for  once  that  I looked  any  other 
way  I looked  twice  at  Mrs.  Blackett’s  face, 
serene  and  mindful  of  privilege  and  respon- 
sibility, the  mistress  by  simple  fitness  of  this 
great  day. 

Mrs.  Todd  looked  up  at  the  roof  of  green 
trees,  and  then  carefully  surveyed  the  com- 
pany. “ I see  ’em  better  now  they  ’re  all 
settin’  down,”  she  said  with  satisfaction. 
“ There ’s  old  Mr.  Gilbraith  and  his  sister. 
I wish  they  were  settin’  with  us ; they  ’re 
not  among  folks  they  can  parley  with,  an’ 
they  look  disappointed.” 

As  the  feast  went  on,  the  spirits  of  my 
companion  steadily  rose.  The  excitement  of 
an  unexpectedly  great  occasion  was  a subtle 
stimulant  to  her  disposition,  and  I could  see 
that  sometimes  when  Mrs.  Todd  had  seemed 
limited  and  heavily  domestic,  she  had  simply 
grown  sluggish  for  lack  of  proper  surround- 


174  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

ings.  She  was  not  so  much  reminiscent 
now  as  expectant,  and  as  alert  and  gay  as  a 
girl.  We  who  were  her  neighbors  were  full 
of  gayety,  which  was  but  the  reflected  light 
from  her  beaming  countenance.  It  was  not 
the  first  time  that  I was  full  of  wonder  at 
the  waste  of  human  ability  in  this  world, 
as  a botanist  wonders  at  the  wastefulness 
of  nature,  the  thousand  seeds  that  die,  the 
unused  provision  of  every  sort.  The  reserve 
force  of  society  grows  more  and  more  amaz- 
ing to  one’s  thought.  More  than  one  face 
among  the  Bowdens  showed  that  only  op- 
portunity and  stimulus  were  lacking,  — a 
narrow  set  of  circumstances  had  caged  a fine 
able  character  and  held  it  captive.  One  sees 
exactly  the  same  types  in  a country  gather- 
ing as  in  the  most  brilliant  city  company. 
You  are  safe  to  be  understood  if  the  spirit 
of  your  speech  is  the  same  for  one  neighbor 
as  for  the  other. 


XIX. 

THE  FEAST’S  END. 

The  feast  was  a noble  feast,  as  has  al- 
ready been  said.  There  was  an  elegant  in- 
genuity displayed  in  the  form  of  pies  which 
delighted  my  heart.  Once  acknowledge  that 
an  American  pie  is  far  to  be  preferred  to  its 
humble  ancestor,  the  English  tart,  and  it  is 
joyful  to  be  reassured  at  a Bowden  reunion 
that  invention  has  not  yet  failed.  Beside 
a delightful  variety  of  material,  the  decora- 
tions went  beyond  all  my  former  experience  ; 
dates  and  names  were  wrought  in  lines  of 
pastry  and  frosting  on  the  tops.  There  was 
even  more  elaborate  reading  matter  on  an 
excellent  early-apple  pie  which  we  began  to 
share  and  eat,  precept  upon  precept.  Mrs. 
Todd  helped  me  generously  to  the  whole 
word  Bowden , and  consumed  Reunion  her- 
self, save  an  undecipherable  fragment ; but 
the  most  renowned  essay  in  cookery  on  the 
tables  was  a model  of  the  old  Bowden  house 


176  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

made  of  durable  gingerbread,  with  all  the 
windows  and  doors  in  the  right  places,  and 
sprigs  of  genuine  lilac  set  at  the  front.  It 
must  have  been  baked  in  sections,  in  one  of 
the  last  of  the  great  brick  ovens,  and  fas- 
tened together  on  the  morning  of  the  day. 
There  was  a general  sigh  when  this  fell  into 
ruin  at  the  feast’s  end,  and  it  was  shared 
by  a great  part  of  the  assembly,  not  with- 
out seriousness,  and  as  if  it  were  a pledge 
and  token  of  loyalty.  I met  the  maker  of 
the  gingerbread  house,  which  had  called 
up  lively  remembrances  of  a childish  story. 
She  had  the  gleaming  eye  of  an  enthusiast 
and  a look  of  high  ideals. 

“I  could  just  as  well  have  made  it  all  of 
frosted  cake,”  she  said,  “but  ’t  wouldn’t 
have  been  the  right  shade ; the  old  house,  as 
you  observe,  was  never  painted,  and  I con- 
cluded that  plain  gingerbread  would  repre- 
sent it  best.  It  was  n’t  all  I expected  it 
would  be,”  she  said  sadly,  as  many  an  artist 
had  said  before  her  of  his  work. 

There  were  speeches  by  the  ministers ; and 
there  proved  to  be  a historian  among  the 
Bowdens,  who  gave  some  fine  anecdotes  of 
the  family  history;  and  then  appeared  a 
poetess,  whom  Mrs.  Todd  regarded  with 


THE  FEASTS  END . 


177 


wistful  compassion  and  indulgence,  and 
when  the  long  faded  garland  of  verses  came 
to  an  appealing  end,  she  turned  to  me  with 
words  of  praise. 

“ Sounded  pretty,”  said  the  generous  lis- 
tener. “ Yes,  I thought  she  did  very  well. 
We  went  to  school  together,  an’  Mary  Anna 
had  a very  hard  time ; trouble  was,  her 
mother  thought  she ’d  given  birth  to  a 
genius,  an’  Mary  Anna ’s  come  to  believe  it 
herself.  There,  I don’t  know  what  we  should 
have  done  without  her;  there  ain’t  nobody 
else  that  can  write  poetry  between  here  and 
’way  up  towards  Rockland ; it  adds  a great 
deal  at  such  a time.  When  she  speaks  o’ 
those  that  are  gone,  she  feels  it  all,  and  so 
does  everybody  else,  but  she  harps  too  much. 
I ’d  laid  half  of  that  away  for  next  time,  if  I 
was  Mary  Anna.  There  comes  mother  to 
speak  to  her,  an’  old  Mr.  Gilbraith’s  sister; 
now  she  ’ll  be  heartened  right  up.  Mother  ’ll 
say  just  the  right  thing.” 

The  leave  - takings  were  as  affecting  as 
the  meetings  of  these  old  friends  had  been. 
There  were  enough  young  persons  at  the 
reunion,  but  it  is  the  old  who  really  value 
such  opportunities  ; as  for  the  young,  it  is 
the  habit  of  every  day  to  meet  their  comrades, 


178  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

— the  time  of  separation  has  not  come.  To 
see  the  joy  with  which  these  elder  kinsfolk 
and  acquaintances  had  looked  in  one  an- 
other’s faces,  and  the  lingering  touch  of  their 
friendly  hands ; to  see  these  affectionate 
meetings  and  then  the  reluctant  partings, 
gave  one  a new  idea  of  the  isolation  in  which 
it  was  possible  to  live  in  that  after  all  thinly 
settled  region.  They  did  not  expect  to  see 
one  another  again  very  soon ; the  steady, 
hard  work  on  the  farms,  the  difficulty  of 
getting  from  place  to  place,  especially  in 
winter  when  boats  were  laid  up,  gave  double 
value  to  any  occasion  which  could  bring  a 
large  number  of  families  together.  Even 
funerals  in  this  country  of  the  pointed  firs 
were  not  without  their  social  advantages  and 
satisfactions.  I heard  the  words  “ next  sum- 
mer ” repeated  many  times,  though  summer 
was  still  ours  and  all  the  leaves  were  green. 

The  boats  began  to  put  out  from  shore, 
and  the  wagons  to  drive  away.  Mrs.  Black- 
ett took  me  into  the  old  house  when  we  came 
back  from  the  grove:  it  was  her  father’s 
birthplace  and  early  home,  and  she  had 
spent  much  of  her  own  childhood  there  with 
her  grandmother.  She  spoke  of  those  days  as 
if  they  had  but  lately  passed ; in  fact,  I could 


THE  FEASTS  END. 


179 


imagine  that  the  house  looked  almost  exactly 
the  same  to  her.  I could  see  the  brown 
rafters  of  the  unfinished  roof  as  I looked  up 
the  steep  staircase,  though  the  best  room 
was  as  handsome  with  its  good  wainscoting 
and  touch  of  ornament  on  the  cornice  as  any 
old  room  of  its  day  in  a town. 

Some  of  the  guests  who  came  from  a dis- 
tance were  still  sitting  in  the  best  room 
when  we  went  in  to  take  leave  of  the  mas- 
ter and  mistress  of  the  house.  We  all  said 
eagerly  what  a pleasant  day  it  had  been,  and 
how  swiftly  the  time  had  passed.  Perhaps 
it  is  the  great  national  anniversaries  which 
our  country  has  lately  kept,  and  the  soldiers’ 
meetings  that  take  place  everywhere,  which 
have  made  reunions  of  every  sort  the  fashion. 
This  one,  at  least,  had  been  very  interesting. 
I fancied  that  old  feuds  had  been  overlooked, 
and  the  old  saying  that  blood  is  thicker  than 
water  had  again  proved  itself  true,  though 
from  the  variety  of  names  one  argued  a cer- 
tain adulteration  of  the  Bowden  traits  and 
belongings.  Clannishness  is  an  instinct  of 
the  heart,  — it  is  more  than  a birthright,  or 
a custom ; and  lesser  rights  were  forgotten 
in  the  claim  to  a common  inheritance. 

We  were  among  the  very  last  to  return 


180  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 


to  our  proper  lives  and  lodgings.  I came 
near  to  feeling  like  a true  Bowden,  and 
parted  from  certain  new  friends  as  if  they 
were  old  friends;  we  were  rich  with  the 
treasure  of  a new  remembrance. 

At  last  we  were  in  the  high  wagon  again ; 
the  old  white  horse  had  been  well  fed  in  the 
Bowden  barn,  and  we  drove  away  and  soon 
began  to  climb  the  long  hill  toward  the 
wooded  ridge.  The  road  was  new  to  me,  as 
roads  always  are,  going  back.  Most  of  our 
companions  had  been  full  of  anxious  thoughts 
of  home,  — of  the  cows,  or  of  young  chil- 
dren likely  to  fall  into  disaster,  — but  we 
had  no  reasons  for  haste,  and  drove  slowly 
along,  talking  and  resting  by  the  way.  Mrs. 
Todd  said  once  that  she  really  hoped  her 
front  door  had  been  shut  on  account  of  the 
dust  blowing  in,  but  added  that  nothing 
made  any  weight  on  her  mind  except  not  to 
forget  to  turn  a few  late  mullein  leaves  that 
were  drying  on  a newspaper  in  the  little 
loft.  Mrs.  Blackett  and  I gave  our  word 
of  honor  that  we  would  remind  her  of  this 
heavy  responsibility.  The  way  seemed 
short,  we  had  so  much  to  talk  about.  We 
climbed  hills  where  we  could  see  the  great 
bay  and  the  islands,  and  then  went  down 


THE  FEASTS  END. 


181 


into  shady  valleys  where  the  air  began  to 
feel  like  evening,  cool  and  damp  with  a fra- 
grance of  wet  ferns.  Mrs.  Todd  alighted 
once  or  twice,  refusing  all  assistance  in 
securing  some  boughs  of  a rare  shrub  which 
she  valued  for  its  bark,  though  she  proved 
incommunicative  as  to  her  reasons.  We 
passed  the  house  where  we  had  been  so 
kindly  entertained  with  doughnuts  earlier  in 
the  day,  and  found  it  closed  and  deserted, 
which  was  a disappointment. 

“They  must  have  stopped  to  tea  some- 
wheres  and  thought  they ’d  finish  up  the 
day,”  said  Mrs.  Todd.  “ Those  that  enjoyed 
it  best  ’ll  want  to  get  right  home  so’s  to 
think  it  over.” 

“ I did  n’t  see  the  woman  there  after  all, 
did  you?”  asked  Mrs.  Blackett  as  the  horse 
stopped  to  drink  at  the  trough. 

“ Oh  yes,  I spoke  with  her,”  answered 
Mrs.  Todd,  with  but  scant  interest  or  ap- 
proval. “ She  ain’t  a member  o’  our  family.” 

“ I thought  you  said  she  resembled  Cousin 
Pa’lina  Bowden  about  the  forehead,”  sug- 
gested Mrs.  Blackett. 

“ Well,  she  don’t,”  answered  Mrs.  Todd 
impatiently.  “ I ain’t  one  that ’s  ord’na- 
rily  mistaken  about  family  likenesses,  and 


182  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

she  did  n’t  seem  to  meet  with  friends,  so  I 
went  square  up  to  her.  6 1 expect  you’re 
a Bowden  by  your  looks,’  says  I.  4 Yes,  I 
take  it  you  ’re  one  o’  the  Bowdens.’  4 Lor’, 
no,’  says  she.  4 Dennett  was  my  maiden 
name,  but  I married  a Bowden  for  my  first 
husband.  I thought  I ’d  come  an’  just  see 
what  was  a-goin’  on’ ! ” 

Mrs.  Blackett  laughed  heartily.  44 1 ’m 
goin’  to  remember  to  tell  William  o’  that,” 
she  said.  44  There,  Almiry,  the  only  thing 
that ’s  troubled  me  all  this  day  is  to  think 
how  William  would  have  enjoyed  it.  I do 
so  wish  William  had  been  there.” 

44 1 sort  of  wish  he  had,  myself,”  said 
Mrs.  Todd  frankly. 

44  There  wa’n’t  many  old  folks  there,  some- 
how,” said  Mrs.  Blackett,  with  a touch  of 
sadness  in  her  voice.  44  There  ain’t  so  many 
to  come  as  there  used  to  be,  I ’m  aware,  but 
I expected  to  see  more.” 

44 1 thought  they  turned  out  pretty  well, 
when  you  come  to  think  of  it ; why,  every- 
body was  sayin’  so  an’  feelin’  gratified,” 
answered  Mrs.  Todd  hastily  with  pleasing 
unconsciousness  ; then  I saw  the  quick  color 
flash  into  her  cheek,  and  presently  she  made 
some  excuse  to  turn  and  steal  an  anxious 


THE  FEASTS  END. 


183 


look  at  her  mother.  Mrs.  Blackett  was 
smiling  and  thinking  about  her  happy  day, 
though  she  began  to  look  a little  tired. 
Neither  of  my  companions  was  troubled  by 
her  burden  of  years.  I hoped  in  my  heart 
that  I might  be  like  them  as  I lived  on 
into  age,  and  then  smiled  to  think  that 
I too  was  no  longer  very  young.  So  we 
always  keep  the  same  hearts,  though  our 
outer  framework  fails  and  shows  the  touch 
of  time. 

“ ’T  was  pretty  when  they  sang  the  hymn, 
was  n’t  it  ? ” asked  Mrs.  Blackett  at  supper- 
time, with  real  enthusiasm.  “ There  was 
such  a plenty  o’  men’s  voices ; where  I sat  it 
did  sound  beautiful.  I had  to  stop  and  listen 
when  they  came  to  the  last  verse.” 

I saw  that  Mrs.  Todd’s  broad  shoulders 
began  to  shake.  “ There  was  good  singers 
there ; yes,  there  was  excellent  singers,”  she 
agreed  heartily,  putting  down  her  teacup, 
“ but  I chanced  to  drift  alongside  Mis’  Peter 
Bowden  o’  Great  Bay,  an’  I could  n’t  help 
thinkin’  if  she  was  as  far  out  o’  town  as  she 
was  out  o’  tune,  she  would  n’t  get  back  in  a 
day.” 


ALONG  SHORE. 


One  day  as  I went  along  the  shore  beyond 
the  old  wharves  and  the  newer,  high-stepped 
fabric  of  the  steamer  landing,  I saw  that 
all  the  boats  were  beached,  and  the  slack 
water  period  of  the  early  afternoon  pre- 
vailed. Nothing  was  going  on,  not  even 
the  most  leisurely  of  occupations,  like  bait- 
ing trawls  or  mending  nets,  or  repairing 
lobster  pots ; the  very  boats  seemed  to  be 
taking  an  afternoon  nap  in  the  sun.  I 
could  hardly  discover  a distant  sail  as  I 
looked  seaward,  except  a weather-beaten 
lobster  smack,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
taken  for  a plaything  by  the  light  airs  that 
blew  about  the  bay.  It  drifted  and  turned 
about  so  aimlessly  in  the  wide  reach  off 
Burnt  Island,  that  I suspected  there  was 
nobody  at  the  wheel,  or  that  she  might  have 
parted  her  rusty  anchor  chain  while  all  the 
crew  were  asleep. 


ALONG  SHORE . 


185 


I watched  her  for  a minute  or  two ; she 
was  the  old  Miranda,  owned  by  some  of  the 
Caplins,  and  I knew  her  by  an  odd  shaped 
patch  of  newish  duck  that  was  set  into  the 
peak  of  her  dingy  mainsail.  Her  vagaries 
offered  such  an  exciting  subject  for  conver- 
sation that  my  heart  rejoiced  at  the  sound 
of  a hoarse  voice  behind  me.  At  that  mo- 
ment, before  I had  time  to  answer,  I saw 
something  large  and  shapeless  flung  from 
the  Miranda’s  deck  that  splashed  the  water 
high  against  her  black  side,  and  my  com- 
panion gave  a satisfied  chuckle.  The  old 
lobster  smack’s  sail  caught  the  breeze  again 
at  this  moment,  and  she  moved  off  down 
the  bay.  Turning,  I found  old  Elijah  Til- 
ley, who  had  come  softly  out  of  his  dark 
fish  house,  as  if  it  were  a burrow. 

“ Boy  got  kind  o’  drowsy  steerin’  of  her ; 
Monroe  he  hove  him  right  overboard ; ’wake 
now  fast  enough,”  explained  Mr.  Tilley,  and 
we  laughed  together. 

I was  delighted,  for  my  part,  that  the  vicis- 
situdes and  dangers  of  the  Miranda,  in  a 
rocky  channel,  should  have  given  me  this 
opportunity  to  make  acquaintance  with  an 
old  fisherman  to  whom  I had  never  spoken. 
At  first  he  had  seemed  to  be  one  of  those 


186  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

evasive  and  uncomfortable  persons  who  are 
so  suspicious  of  you  that  they  make  you 
almost  suspicious  of  yourself.  Mr.  Elijah 
Tilley  appeared  to  regard  a stranger  with 
scornful  indifference.  You  might  see  him 
standing  on  the  pebble  beach  or  in  a fish- 
house  doorway,  but  when  you  came  nearer 
he  was  gone.  He  was  one  of  the  small  com- 
pany of  elderly,  gaunt-shaped  great  fisher- 
men whom  I used  to  like  to  see  leading  up 
a deep-laden  boat  by  the  head,  as  if  it  were 
a horse,  from  the  water’s  edge  to  the  steep 
slope  of  the  pebble  beach.  There  were  four 
of  these  large  old  men  at  the  Landing,  who 
were  the  survivors  of  an  earlier  and  more 
vigorous  generation.  There  was  an  alliance 
and  understanding  between  them,  so  close 
that  it  was  apparently  speechless.  They 
gave  much  time  to  watching  one  another’s 
boats  go  out  or  come  in ; they  lent  a ready 
hand  at  tending  one  another’s  lobster  traps 
in  rough  weather ; they  helped  to  clean  the 
fish,  or  to  sliver  porgies  for  the  trawls,  as  if 
they  were  in  close  partnership ; and  when  a 
boat  came  in  from  deep-sea  fishing  they  were 
never  far  out  of  the  way,  and  hastened  to 
help  carry  it  ashore,  two  by  two,  splashing 
alongside,  or  holding  its  steady  head,  as  if 


ALONG  SHORE. 


187 


it  were  a willful  sea  colt.  As  a matter  of 
fact  no  boat  could  help  being  steady  and 
way-wise  under  their  instant  direction  and 
companionship.  Abel’s  boat  and  Jonathan 
Bowden’s  boat  were  as  distinct  and  experi- 
enced personalities  as  the  men  themselves, 
and  as  inexpressive.  Arguments  and  opinions 
were  unknown  to  the  conversation  of  these 
ancient  friends;  you  would  as  soon  have 
expected  to  hear  small  talk  in  a company  of 
elephants  as  to  hear  old  Mr.  Bowden  or  Eli- 
jah Tilley  and  their  two  mates  waste  breath 
upon  any  form  of  trivial  gossip.  They  made 
brief  statements  to  one  another  from  time 
to  time.  As  you  came  to  know  them  you 
wondered  more  and  more  that  they  should 
talk  at  all.  Speech  seemed  to  be  a light 
and  elegant  accomplishment,  and  their  unex- 
pected acquaintance  with  its  arts  made  them 
of  new  value  to  the  listener.  You  felt 
almost  as  if  a landmark  pine  should  sud- 
denly address  you  in  regard  to  the  weather, 
or  a lofty-minded  old  camel  make  a remark 
as  you  stood  respectfully  near  him  under  the 
circus  tent. 

I often  wondered  a great  deal  about  the 
inner  life  and  thought  of  these  self-contained 
old  fishermen  ; their  minds  seemed  to  be 


188  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

fixed  upon  nature  and  the  elements  rather 
than  upon  any  contrivances  of  man,  like 
politics  or  theology.  My  friend,  Captain 
Bowden,  who  was  the  nephew  of  the  eldest 
of  this  group,  regarded  them  with  deference  ; 
but  he  did  not  belong  to  their  secret  com- 
panionship, though  he  was  neither  young  nor 
talkative. 

“ They ’ve  gone  together  ever  since  they 
were  boys,  they  know  most  everything  about 
the  sea  amon’st  them,”  he  told  me  once. 
“ They  was  always  just  as  you  see  ’em  now 
since  the  memory  of  man.” 

These  ancient  seafarers  had  houses  and 
lands  not  outwardly  different  from  other 
Dunnet  Landing  dwellings,  and  two  of  them 
were  fathers  of  families,  but  their  true 
dwelling  places  were  the  sea,  and  the  stony 
beach  that  edged  its  familiar  shore,  and  the 
fishhouses,  where  much  salt  brine  from  the 
mackerel  kits  had  soaked  the  very  timbers 
into  a state  of  brown  permanence  and  petri- 
faction. It  had  also  affected  the  old  fisher- 
men’s hard  complexions,  until  one  fancied 
that  when  Death  claimed  them  it  could  only 
be  with  the  aid,  not  of  any  slender  modern 
dart,  but  the  good  serviceable  harpoon  of  a 
seventeenth  century  woodcut. 


ALONG  SHORE . 


189 


Elijah  Tilley  was  such  an  evasive,  dis- 
couraged-looking person,  heavy-headed,  and 
stooping  so  that  one  could  never  look  him  in 
the  face,  that  even  after  his  friendly  excla- 
mation about  Monroe  Pennell,  the  lobster 
smack’s  skipper,  and  the  sleepy  boy,  I did 
not  venture  at  once  to  speak  again.  Mr. 
Tilley  was  carrying  a small  haddock  in  one 
hand,  and  presently  shifted  it  to  the  other 
hand  lest  it  might  touch  my  skirt.  I knew 
that  my  company  was  accepted,  and  we 
walked  together  a little  way. 

“You  mean  to  have  a good  supper,”  I 
ventured  to  say,  by  way  of  friendliness. 

“ Goin’  to  have  this  ’ere  haddock  an’  some 
o’  my  good  baked  potatoes ; must  eat  to 
live,”  responded  my  companion  with  great 
pleasantness  and  open  approval.  I found 
that  I had  suddenly  left  the  forbidding  coast 
and  come  into  a smooth  little  harbor  of 
friendship. 

“ You  ain’t  never  been  up  to  my  place,” 
said  the  old  man.  “ Folks  don’t  come  now 
as  they  used  to ; no,  ’t  ain’t  no  use  to  ask 
folks  now.  My  poor  dear  she  was  a great 
hand  to  draw  young  company.” 

I remembered  that  Mrs.  Todd  had  once 
said  that  this  old  fisherman  had  been  sore 


190  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

stricken  and  unconsoled  at  the  death  of  his 
wife. 

“ I should  like  very  much  to  come,”  said 
I.  “ Perhaps  you  are  going  to  be  at  home 
later  on  ? ” 

Mr.  Tilley  agreed,  by  a sober  nod,  and 
went  his  way  bent -shouldered  and  with  a 
rolling  gait.  There  was  a new  patch  high 
on  the  shoulder  of  his  old  waistcoat,  which 
corresponded  to  the  renewing  of  the  Mi- 
randa’s mainsail  down  the  bay,  and  I won- 
dered if  his  own  fingers,  clumsy  with  much 
deep-sea  fishing,  had  set  it  in. 

“ Was  there  a good  catch  to-day?”  I 
asked,  stopping  a moment.  “ I did  n’t  hap- 
pen to  be  on  the  shore  when  the  boats  came 
in.” 

“ No  ; all  come  in  pretty  light,”  answered 
Mr.  Tilley.  “ Addicks  an’  Bowden  they 
done  the  best ; Abel  an’  me  we  had  but  a 
slim  fare.  We  went  out  ’arly,  but  not  so 
’arly  as  sometimes ; looked  like  a poor 
mornin’.  I got  nine  haddick,  all  small,  and 
seven  fish  ; the  rest  on  ’em  got  more  fish 
than  haddick.  Well,  I don’t  expect  they 
feel  like  bitin’  every  day;  we  l’arn  to 
humor  ’em  a little,  an’  let  ’em  have  their 
way  ’bout  it.  These  plaguey  dog-fish  kind 


ALONG  SHORE . 


191 


of  worry  ’em.”  Mr.  Tilley  pronounced  the 
last  sentence  with  much  sympathy,  as  if  he 
looked  upon  himself  as  a true  friend  of  all 
the  haddock  and  codfish  that  lived  on  the 
fishing  grounds,  and  so  we  parted. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  I went  along  the 
beach  again  until  I came  to  the  foot  of  Mr. 
Tilley’s  land,  and  found  his  rough  track 
across  the  cobble-stones  and  rocks  to  the 
field  edge,  where  there  was  a heavy  piece  of 
old  wreck  timber,  like  a ship’s  bone,  full  of 
treenails.  From  this  a little  footpath,  nar- 
row with  one  man’s  treading,  led  up  across 
the  small  green  field  that  made  Mr.  Tilley’s 
whole  estate,  except  a straggling  pasture 
that  tilted  on  edge  up  the  steep  hillside 
beyond  the  house  and  road.  I could  hear 
the  tinkle-tan kle  of  a cow-bell  somewhere 
among  the  spruces  by  which  the  pasture  was 
being  walked  over  and  forested  from  every 
side ; it  was  likely  to  be  called  the  wood  lot 
before  long,  but  the  field  was  unmolested. 
I could  not  see  a bush  or  a brier  anywhere 
within  its  walls,  and  hardly  a stray  pebble 
showed  itself.  This  was  most  surprising  in 
that  country  of  firm  ledges,  and  scattered 
stones  which  all  the  walls  that  industry 


192  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

could  devise  had  hardly  begun  to  clear  away 
off  the  land.  In  the  narrow  field  I noticed 
some  stout  stakes,  apparently  planted  at 
random  in  the  grass  and  among  the  hills  of 
potatoes,  but  carefully  painted  yellow  and 
white  to  match  the  house,  a neat  sharp- 
edged  little  dwelling,  which  looked  strangely 
modern  for  its  owner.  I should  have  much 
sooner  believed  that  the  smart  young  whole- 
sale egg  merchant  of  the  Landing  was  its 
occupant  than  Mr.  Tilley,  since  a man’s 
house  is  really  but  his  larger  body,  and  ex- 
presses in  a way  his  nature  and  character. 

I went  up  the  field,  following  the  smooth 
little  path  to  the  side  door.  As  for  using 
the  front  door,  that  was  a matter  of  great 
ceremony  ; the  long  grass  grew  close  against 
the  high  stone  step,  and  a snowberry  bush 
leaned  over  it,  top-heavy  with  the  weight  of 
a morning-glory  vine  that  had  managed  to 
take  what  the  fishermen  might  call  a half 
hitch  about  the  door-knob.  Elijah  Tilley 
came  to  the  side  door  to  receive  me ; he  was 
knitting  a blue  yarn  stocking  without  look- 
ing on,  and  was  warmly  dressed  for  the  sea- 
son in  a thick  blue  flannel  shirt  with  white 
crockery  buttons,  a faded  waistcoat  and 
trousers  heavily  patched  at  the  knees.  These 


ALONG  SHORE. 


193 


were  not  his  fishing  clothes.  There  was 
something  delightful  in  the  grasp  of  his 
hand,  warm  and  clean,  as  if  it  never  touched 
anything  hut  the  comfortable  woolen  yarn, 
instead  of  cold  sea  water  and  slippery  fish. 

“ What  are  the  painted  stakes  for,  down 
in  the  field  ? ” X hastened  to  ask,  and  he  came 
out  a step  or  two  along  the  path  to  see ; and 
looked  at  the  stakes  as  if  his  attention  were 
called  to  them  for  the  first  time. 

“ Folks  laughed  at  me  when  I first  bought 
this  place  an’  come  here  to  live,”  he  ex- 
plained. “ They  said  ’t  wa’n’t  no  kind  of  a 
field  privilege  at  all ; no  place  to  raise  any- 
thing, all  full  o’  stones.  I was  aware ’t  was 
good  land,  an’  I worked  some  on  it  — odd 
times  when  I did  n’t  have  nothin’  else  on 
hand  — till  I cleared  them  loose  stones  all 
out.  You  never  see  a prettier  piece  than 
’t is  now;  now  did  ye?  Well,  as  for  them 
painted  marks,  them ’s  my  buoys.  I struck 
on  to  some  heavy  rocks  that  did  n’t  show 
none,  but  a plow ’d  be  liable  to  ground  on 
’em,  an’  so  I ketched  holt  an’  buoyed  ’em 
same ’s  you  see.  They  don’t  trouble  me  no 
more  ’n  if  they  wa’n’t  there.” 

“ You  have  n’t  been  to  sea  for  nothing,” 
I said  laughing. 


194  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

u One  trade  helps  another,’’  said  Elijah 
with  an  amiable  smile.  “ Come  right  in  an’ 
set  down.  Come  in  an’  rest  ye,”  he  ex- 
claimed, and  led  the  way  into  his  comfort- 
able kitchen.  The  sunshine  poured  in  at 
the  two  further  windows,  and  a cat  was 
curled  up  sound  asleep  on  the  table  that 
stood  between  them.  There  was  a new-look- 
ing light  oilcloth  of  a tiled  pattern  on  the 
floor,  and  a crockery  teapot,  large  for  a 
household  of  only  one  person,  stood  on  the 
bright  stove.  I ventured  to  say  that  some- 
body must  be  a very  good  housekeeper. 

“ That ’s  me,”  acknowledged  the  old  fisher- 
man with  frankness.  “ There  ain’t  nobody 
here  but  me.  I try  to  keep  things  looking 
right,  same ’s  poor  dear  left  ’em.  You  set 
down  here  in  this  chair,  then  you  can  look 
off  an’  see  the  water.  None  on  ’em  thought 
I was  goin’  to  get  along  alone,  no  way,  but  I 
wa’n’t  goin’  to  have  my  house  turned  upsi’ 
down  an’  all  changed  about;  no,  not  to 
please  nobody.  I was  the  only  one  knew 
just  how  she  liked  to  have  things  set,  poor 
dear,  an’  I said  I was  goin’  to  make  shift, 
and  I have  made  shift.  I ’d  rather  tough  it 
out  alone.”  And  he  sighed  heavily,  as  if  to 
sigh  were  his  familiar  consolation. 


ALONG  SHORE . 


195 


We  were  both  silent  for  a minute ; the  old 
man  looked  out  of  the  window,  as  if  he  had 
forgotten  I was  there. 

“ You  must  miss  her  very  much? ” I said 
at  last. 

“ I do  miss  her,”  he  answered,  and  sighed 
again.  “Folks  all  kep’  repeatin’  that  time 
would  ease  me,  but  I can’t  find  it  does.  No, 
I miss  her  just  the  same  every  day.” 

“ How  long  is  it  since  she  died  ? ” I asked. 

“ Eight  year  now,  come  the  first  of  Octo- 
ber. It  don’t  seem  near  so  long.  I ’ve  got 
a sister  that  comes  and  stops  ’long  o’  me  a 
little  spell,  spring  an’  fall,  an’  odd  times  if  I 
send  after  her.  I ain’t  near  so  good  a hand 
to  sew  as  I be  to  knit,  and  she ’s  very 
quick  to  set  everything  to  rights.  She ’s  a 
married  woman  with  a family;  her  son’s 
folks  lives  at  home,  an’  I can’t  make  no 
great  claim  on  her  time.  But  it  makes  me 
a kind’  o good  excuse,  when  I do  send,  to 
help  her  a little ; she  ain’t  none  too  well  off. 
Poor  dear  always  liked  her,  and  we  used  to 
contrive  our  ways  together.  ’T  is  full  as  easy 
to  be  alone.  I set  here  an’  think  it  all  over, 
an’  think  considerable  when  the  weather ’s 
bad  to  go  outside.  I get  so  some  days  it 
feels  as  if  poor  dear  might  step  right  back 


196  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

into  this  kitchen.  I keep  a watchin’  them 
doors  as  if  she  might  step  in  to  ary  one. 
Yes,  ma’am,  I keep  a-lookin’  off  an’  drop- 
pin’  o’  my  stitches;  that ’s  just  how  it  seems. 
I can’t  git  over  losin’  of  her  no  way  nor  no 
how.  Yes,  ma’am,  that ’s  just  how  it  seems 
to  me.” 

I did  not  say  anything,  and  he  did  not 
look  up. 

“ I git  feelin’  so  sometimes  I have  to  lay 
everything  by  an’  go  out  door.  She  was  a 
sweet  pretty  creatur’  long ’s  she  lived,”  the 
old  man  added  mournfully.  “ There ’s  that 
little  rockin’  chair  o’  her’n,  I set  an’  notice 
it  an’  think  how  strange ’t  is  a creatur’  like 
her  should  be  gone  an’  that  chair  be  here 
right  in  its  old  place.” 

“ I wish  I had  known  her ; Mrs.  Todd 
told  me  about  your  wife  one  day,”  I said. 

“ You ’d  have  liked  to  come  and  see  her  ; 
all  the  folks  did,”  said  poor  Elijah.  “ She’d 
been  so  pleased  to  hear  everything  and  see 
somebody  new  that  took  such  an  int’rest. 
She  had  a kind  o’  gift  to  make  it  pleasant 
for  folks.  I guess  likely  Almiry  Todd  told 
you  she  was  a pretty  woman,  especially  in 
her  young  days ; late  years,  too,  she  kep’ 
her  looks  and  come  to  be  so  pleasant  look- 


ALONG  SHORE. 


197 


in’.”  There,  ’t  ain’t  so  much  matter,  I shall 
be  done  afore  a great  while.  No  ; I sha’n’t 
trouble  the  fish  a great  sight  more.” 

The  old  widower  sat  with  his  head  bowed 
over  his  knitting,  as  if  he  were  hastily 
shortening  the  very  thread  of  time.  The 
minutes  went  slowly  by.  He  stopped  his 
work  and  clasped  his  hands  firmly  together. 
I saw  he  had  forgotten  his  guest,  and  I kept 
the  afternoon  watch  with  him.  At  last  he 
looked  up  as  if  but  a moment  had  passed 
of  his  continual  loneliness. 

“Yes,  ma’am,  I ’m  one  that  has  seen 
trouble,”  he  said,  and  began  to  knit  again. 

The  visible  tribute  of  his  careful  house- 
keeping, and  the  clean  bright  room  which 
had  once  enshrined  his  wife,  and  now  en- 
shrined her  memory,  was  very  moving  to 
me ; he  had  no  thought  for  any  one  else  or 
for  any  other  place.  I began  to  see  her  my- 
self in  her  home,  — a delicate-looking,  faded 
little  woman,  who  leaned  upon  his  rough 
strength  and  affectionate  heart,  who  was 
always  watching  for  his  boat  out  of  this  very 
window,  and  who  always  opened  the  door 
and  welcomed  him  when  he  came  home. 

“ I used  to  laugh  at  her,  poor  dear,”  said 
Elijah,  as  if  he  read  my  thought.  “ I used  to 


198  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 


make  light  of  her  timid  notions.  She  used 
to  be  fearful  when  I was  out  in  bad  weather 
or  baffled  about  gittin’  ashore.  She  used  to 
say  the  time  seemed  long  to  her,  but  I ’ve 
found  out  all  about  it  now.  I used  to  be 
dreadful  thoughtless  when  I was  a young 
man  and  the  fish  was  bitin’  well.  I ’d  stay 
out  late  some  o’  them  days,  an’  I expect 
she ’d  watch  an’  watch  an’  lose  heart  a-waitin’. 
My  heart  alive ! what  a supper  she ’d  git, 
an’  be  right  there  watchin’  from  the  door, 
with  somethin’  over  her  head  if ’t  was  cold, 
waitin’  to  hear  all  about  it  as  I come  up  the 
field.  Lord,  how  I think  o’  all  them  little 
things  ! ” 

“ This  was  what  she  called  the  best  room  ; 
in  this  way,”  he  said  presently,  laying  his 
knitting  on  the  table,  and  leading  the  way 
across  the  front  entry  and  unlocking  a door, 
which  he  threw  open  with  an  air  of  pride. 
The  best  room  seemed  to  me  a much  sadder 
and  more  empty  place  than  the  kitchen ; its 
conventionalities  lacked  the  simple  perfec- 
tion of  the  humbler  room  and  failed  on  the 
side  of  poor  ambition ; it  was  only  when 
one  remembered  what  patient  saving,  and 
what  high  respect  for  society  in  the  abstract 
go  to  such  furnishing  that  the  little  parlor 


ALONG  SHORE. 


199 


was  interesting  at  all.  I could  imagine  the 
great  day  of  certain  purchases,  the  bewilder- 
ing shops  of  the  next  large  town,  the  aspiring 
anxious  woman,  the  clumsy  sea-tanned  man 
in  his  best  clothes,  so  eager  to  be  pleased, 
but  at  ease  only  when  they  were  safe  back 
in  the  sail-boat  again,  going  down  the  bay 
with  their  precious  freight,  the  hoarded 
money  all  spent  and  nothing  to  think  of  but 
tiller  and  sail.  I looked  at  the  unworn  car- 
pet, the  glass  vases  on  the  mantelpiece  with 
their  prim  bunches  of  bleached  swamp  grass 
and  dusty  marsh  rosemary,  and  I could  read 
the  history  of  Mrs.  Tilley’s  best  room  from 
its  very  beginning. 

“ You  see  for  yourself  what  beautiful  rugs 
she  could  make ; now  I ’m  going  to  show 
you  her  best  tea  things  she  thought  so  much 
of,”  said  the  master  of  the  house,  opening 
the  door  of  a shallow  cupboard.  “ That ’s 
real  chiny,  all  of  it  on  those  two  shelves,” 
he  told  me  proudly.  “ I bought  it  all  my- 
self, when  we  was  first  married,  in  the  port 
of  Bordeaux.  There  never  was  one  single 
piece  of  it  broke  until — Well,  I used  to 
say,  long  as  she  lived,  there  never  was  a 
piece  broke,  but  long  at  the  last  I noticed 
she ’d  look  kind  o’  distressed,  an’  I thought 


200  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

’t  was  ’count  o’  me  boastin’.  When  they 
asked  if  they  should  use  it  when  the  folks 
was  here  to  supper,  time  o’  her  funeral,  I 
knew  she ’d  want  to  have  everything  nice, 
and  I said  6 certain.’  Some  o’  the  women 
they  come  runnin’  to  me  an’  called  me, 
while  they  was  takin’  of  the  chiny  down, 
an’  showed  me  there  was  one  o’  the  cups 
broke  an’  the  pieces  wropped  in  paper  and 
pushed  way  back  here,  corner  o’  the  shelf. 
They  did  n’t  want  me  to  go  an’  think  they 
done  it.  Poor  dear ! I had  to  put  right 
out  o’  the  house  when  I see  that.  I knowed 
in  one  minute  how  ’t  was.  We’d  got  so 
used  to  sayin’  ’t  was  all  there  just ’s  I 
fetched  it  home,  an’  so  when  she  broke  that 
cup  somehow  or  ’nother  she  could  n’t  frame 
no  words  to  come  an’  tell  me.  She  could  n’t 
think ’t  would  vex  me,  ’t  was  her  own  hurt 
pride.  I guess  there  wa’n’t  no  other  secret 
ever  lay  between  us.” 

The  French  cups  with  their  gay  sprigs  of 
pink  and  blue,  the  best  tumblers,  an  old 
flowered  bowl  and  tea  caddy,  and  a japanned 
waiter  or  two  adorned  t ^ shelves.  These, 
with  a few  daguerreotypes  in  a little  square 
pile,  had  the  closet  to  themselves,  and  I was 
conscious  of  much  pleasure  in  seeing  them. 


ALONG  SHORE. 


201 


One  is  shown  over  many  a house  in  these 
days  where  the  interest  may  be  more  com- 
plex, but  not  more  definite. 

“ Those  were  her  best  things,  poor  dear,” 
said  Elijah  as  he  locked  the  door  again. 
“ She  told  me  that  last  summer  before  she 
was  taken  away  that  she  could  n’t  think 
o’  anything  more  she  wanted,  there  was 
everything  in  the  house,  an’  all  her  rooms 
was  furnished  pretty.  I was  goin’  over  to 
the  Port,  an’  inquired  for  errands.  I used 
to  ask  her  to  say  what  she  wanted,  cost  or 
no  cost — she  was  a very  reasonable  woman, 
an’  ’t  was  the  place  where  she  done  all  but 
her  extra  shopping.  It  kind  o’  chilled  me 
up  when  she  spoke  so  satisfied.” 

“You  don’t  go  out  fishing  after  Christ- 
mas?” I asked,  as  we  came  back  to  the 
bright  kitchen. 

“ No  ; I take  stiddy  to  my  knitting  after 
January  sets  in,”  said  the  old  seafarer. 
“ ’T  ain’t  worth  while,  fish  make  off  into 
deeper  water  an’  you  can’t  stand  no  such 
perishin’  for  the  sake  o’  what  you  get.  I 
leave  out  a few  traps  in  sheltered  coves  an’ 
do  a little  lobsterin’  on  fair  days.  The  young 
fellows  braves  it  out,  some  on  ’em ; but,  for 
me,  I lay  in  my  winter’s  yarn  an’  set  here 


202  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS . 

where ’t  is  warm,  an’  knit  an’  take  my  com- 
fort. Mother  learnt  me  once  when  I was 
a lad ; she  was  a beautiful  knitter  herself. 
I was  laid  up  with  a bad  knee,  an’  she  said 
’t  would  take  up  my  time  an’  help  her ; we 
was  a large  family.  They’ll  buy  all  the 
folks  can  do  down  here  to  Addicks’  store. 
They  say  our  Dunnet  stockin’s  is  gettin’  to 
be  celebrated  up  to  Boston,  — good  quality 
o’  wool  an’  even  knittin’  or  somethin’.  I ’ve 
always  been  called  a pretty  hand  to  do 
nettin’,  but  seines  is  master  cheap  to  what 
they  used  to  be  when  they  was  all  hand 
worked.  I change  off  to  nettin’  long  to- 
wards spring,  and  I piece  up  my  trawls  and 
lines  and  get  my  fishin’  stuff  to  rights. 
Lobster  pots  they  require  attention,  but  I 
make  ’em  up  in  spring  weather  when  it ’s 
warm  there  in  the  barn.  No ; I ain’t  one  o’ 
them  that  likes  to  set  an’  do  nothin’.” 

“ You  see  the  rugs,  poor  dear  did  them ; 
she  wa’n’t  very  partial  to  knittin’,”  old  Elijah 
went  on,  after  he  had  counted  his  stitches. 
“ Our  rugs  is  beginnin’  to  show  wear,  but 
I can’t  master  none  o’  them  womanish  tricks. 
My  sister,  she  tinkers  ’em  up.  She  said  last 
time  she  was  here  that  she  guessed  they ’d 
last  my  time.” 


ALONG  SHORE. 


203 


“ The  old  ones  are  always  the  prettiest,” 
I said. 

“ You  ain’t  referrin’  to  the  braided  ones 
now?”  answered  Mr.  Tilley.  “You  see 
ours  is  braided  for  the  most  part,  an’  their 
good  looks  is  all  in  the  beginnin’.  Poor 
dear  used  to  say  they  made  an  easier  floor. 
I go  shufflin’  round  the  house  same ’s  if 
’t  was  a bo’t,  and  I always  used  to  be  stub- 
bin’  up  the  corners  o’  the  hooked  kind. 
Her  an’  me  was  always  havin’  our  jokes 
together  same ’s  a boy  an’  girl.  Outsiders 
never ’d  know  nothin’  about  it  to  see  us. 
She  had  nice  manners  with  all,  but  to  me 
there  was  nobody  so  entertainin’.  She’d 
take  off  anybody’s  natural  talk  winter  even- 
in’s  when  we  set  here  alone,  so  you ’d  think 
’t  was  them  a-speakin’.  There,  there ! ” 

I saw  that  he  had  dropped  a stitch  again, 
and  was  snarling  the  blue  yarn  round  his 
clumsy  fingers.  He  handled  it  and  threw 
it  off  at  arm’s  length  as  if  it  were  a cod  line ; 
and  frowned  impatiently,  but  X saw  a tear 
shining  on  his  cheek. 

I said  that  I must  be  going,  it  was  grow- 
ing late,  and  asked  if  I might  come  again, 
and  if  he  would  take  me  out  to  the  fishing 
grounds  some  day. 


204  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

“ Yes,  come  any  time  you  want  to,”  said 
my  host,  “ ’t  ain’t  so  pleasant  as  when  poor 
dear  was  here.  Oh,  I did  n’t  want  to  lose 
her  an’  she  did  n’t  want  to  go,  but  it  had  to 
be.  Such  things  ain’t  for  us  to  say  ; there ’s 
no  yes  an’  no  to  it.” 

“ You  find  Almiry  Todd  one  o’  the  best 
o’  women?”  said  Mr.  Tilley  as  we  parted. 
He  was  standing  in  the  doorway  and  I had 
started  off  down  the  narrow  green  field. 
“ No,  there  ain’t  a better  hearted  woman  in 
the  State  o’  Maine.  I ’ve  known  her  from 
a girl.  She ’s  had  the  best  o’  mothers. 
You  tell  her  I ’m  liable  to  fetch  her  up  a 
couple  or  three  nice  good  mackerel  early  to- 
morrow,” he  said.  “ Now  don’t  let  it  slip 
your  mind.  Poor  dear,  she  always  thought 
a sight  o’  Almiry,  and  she  used  to  remind 
me  there  was  nobody  to  fish  for  her  ; but  I 
don’t  rec’lect  it  as  I ought  to.  I see  you 
drop  a line  yourself  very  handy  now  an’ 
then.” 

We  laughed  together  like  the  best  of 
friends,  and  I spoke  again  about  the  fishing 
grounds,  and  confessed  that  I had  no  fancy 
for  a southerly  breeze  and  a ground  swell. 

“ Nor  me  neither,”  said  the  old  fisherman. 
“Nobody  likes  ’em,  say  what  they  may. 


ALONG  SHORE. 


205 


Poor  dear  was  disobliged  by  the  mere  sight 
of  a bo’t.  Almiry  ’s  got  the  best  o’  mothers, 
I expect  you  know ; Mis’  Blackett  out  to 
Green  Island ; and  we  was  always  plannin’ 
to  go  out  when  summer  come ; but  there,  I 
could  n’t  pick  no  day’s  weather  that  seemed 
to  suit  her  just  right.  I never  set  out  to 
worry  her  neither,  ’t  wa’n’t  no  kind  o’  use ; she 
was  so  pleasant  we  could  n’t  have  no  fret 
nor  trouble.  ’T  was  never  6 you  dear  an’ 
you  darlin’  ’ afore  folks,  an’  6 you  divil  ’ be- 
hind the  door ! ” * r 

As  I looked  back  from  the  lower  end  of 
the  field  I saw  him  still  standing,  a lonely 
figure  in  the  doorway.  “ Poor  dear,”  I 
repeated  to  myself  half  aloud ; “ I wonder 
where  she  is  and  what  she  knows  of  the 
little  world  she  left.  I wonder  what  she  has 
been  doing  these  eight  years ! ” 

I gave  the  message  about  the  mackerel  to 
Mrs.  Todd. 

“ Been  visitin’  with  ’Lijah  ? ” she  asked 
with  interest.  “ I expect  you  had  kind  of 
a dull  session ; he  ain’t  the  talkin’  kind ; 
dwellin’  so  much  long  o’  fish  seems  to  make 
’em  lose  the  gift  o’  speech.”  But  when  I 
told  her  that  Mr.  Tilley  had  been  talking  to 
me  that  day,  she  interrupted  me  quickly. 


206  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

“Then  ’t  was  all  about  his  wife,  an’  he 
can’t  say  nothin’  too  pleasant  neither.  She 
was  modest  with  strangers,  but  there  ain’t 
one  o’  her  old  friends  can  ever  make  up  her 
loss.  For  me,  I don’t  want  to  go  there  no 
more.  There ’s  some  folks  you  miss  and 
some  folks  you  don’t,  when  they  ’re  gone,  but 
there  ain’t  hardly  a day  I don’t  think  o’  dear 
Sarah  Tilley.  She  was  always  right  there  ; 
yes,  you  knew  just  where  to  find  her  like  a 
plain  flower.  ’Lijah ’s  worthy  enough  ; I do 
esteem  ’Lijah,  but  he ’s  a ploddin’  man.” 


XXI. 

THE  BACKWARD  VIEW. 

At  last  it  was  the  time  of  late  summer, 
when  the  house  was  cool  and  damp  in  the 
morning,  and  all  the  light  seemed  to  come 
through  green  leaves ; but  at  the  first  step 
out  of  doors  the  sunshine  always  laid  a warm 
hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  the  clear,  high 
sky  seemed  to  lift  quickly  as  I looked  at  it. 
There  was  no  autumnal  mist  on  the  coast, 
nor  any  August  fog ; instead  of  these,  the 
sea,  the  sky,  all  the  long  shore  line  and  the 
inland  hills,  with  every  bush  of  bay  and 
every  fir-top,  gained  a deeper  color  and  a 
sharper  clearness.  There  was  something 
shining  in  the  air,  and  a kind  of  lustre  on 
the  water  and  the  pasture  grass,  — a north- 
ern look  that,  except  at  this  moment  of  the 
year,  one  must  go  far  to  seek.  The  sun- 
shine of  a northern  summer  was  coming  to 
its  lovely  end. 

The  days  were  few  then  at  D unnet  Land- 


208  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

ing,  and  I let  each  of  them  slip  away  un- 
willingly as  a miser  spends  his  coins.  I 
wished  to  have  one  of  my  first  weeks  back 
again,  with  those  long  hours  when  nothing 
happened  except  the  growth  of  herbs  and 
the  course  of  the  sun.  Once  I had  not  even 
known  where  to  go  for  a walk ; now  there 
were  many  delightful  things  to  be  done  and 
done  again,  as  if  I were  in  London.  I felt 
hurried  and  full  of  pleasant  engagements, 
and  the  days  flew  by  like  a handful  of  flowers 
flung  to  the  sea  wind. 

At  last  I had  to  say  good-by  to  all  my 
Dunnet  Landing  friends,  and  my  homelike 
place  in  the  little  house,  and  return  to  the 
world  in  which  I feared  to  find  myself  a 
foreigner.  There  may  be  restrictions  to  such 
a summer’s  happiness,  but  the  ease  that  be- 
longs to  simplicity  is  charming  enough  to 
make  up  for  whatever  a simple  life  may 
lack,  and  the  gifts  of  peace  are  not  for  those 
who  live  in  the  thick  of  battle. 

I was  to  take  the  small  unpunctual  steamer 
that  went  down  the  bay  in  the  afternoon,  and 
I sat  for  a while  by  my  window  looking  out 
on  the  green  herb  garden,  with  regret  for 
company.  Mrs.  Todd  had  hardly  spoken 


THE  BACKWARD  VIEW. 


209 


all  day  except  in  the  briefest  and  most  dis- 
approving way  ; it  was  as  if  we  were  on  the 
edge  of  a quarrel.  It  seemed  impossible  to 
take  my  departure  with  anything  like  com- 
posure. At  last  I heard  a footstep,  and 
looked  up  to  find  that  Mrs.  Todd  was  stand- 
ing at  the  door. 

“I’ve  seen  to  everything  now,”  she  told 
me  in  an  unusually  loud  and  business-like 
voice.  “Your  trunks  are  on  the  w’arf  by 
this  time.  Cap’n  Bowden  he  come  and  took 
’em  down  himself,  an’  is  going  to  see  that 
they  ’re  safe  aboard.  Yes,  I ’ve  seen  to  all 
your  ’rangements,”  she  repeated  in  a gentler 
tone.  “ These  things  I ’ve  left  on  the  kitchen 
table  you  ’ll  want  to  carry  by  hand  ; the 
basket  need  n’t  be  returned.  I guess  I shall 
walk  over  towards  the  Port  now  an’  inquire 
how  old  Mis’  Edward  Caplin  is.” 

I glanced  at  my  friend’s  face,  and  saw  a 
look  that  touched  me  to  the  heart.  I had 
been  sorry  enough  before  to  go  away. 

“ I guess  you  ’ll  excuse  me  if  I ain’t  down 
there  to  stand  round  on  the  w’arf  and  see 
you  go,”  she  said,  still  trying  to  be  gruff. 
“Yes,  I ought  to  go  over  and  inquire  for 
Mis’  Edward  Caplin ; it ’s  her  third  shock, 
and  if  mother  gets  in  on  Sunday  she  ’ll  want 


210  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

to  know  just  how  the  old  lady  is.”  With  this 
last  word  Mrs.  Todd  turned  and  left  me  as 
if  with  sudden  thought  of  something  she  had 
forgotten,  so  that  I felt  sure  she  was  coming 
back,  but  presently  I heard  her  go  out  of 
the  kitchen  door  and  walk  down  the  path 
toward  the  gate.  I could  not  part  so  ; I 
ran  after  her  to  say  good-by,  but  she  shook 
her  head  and  waved  her  hand  without  look- 
ing back  when  she  heard  my  hurrying  steps, 
and  so  went  away  down  the  street. 

When  I went  in  again  the  little  house  had 
suddenly  grown  lonely,  and  my  room  looked 
empty  as  it  had  the  day  I came.  I and  all 
my  belongings  had  died  out  of  it,  and  I 
knew  how  it  would  seem  when  Mrs.  Todd 
came  back  and  found  her  lodger  gone.  So 
we  die  before  our  own  eyes ; so  we  see  some 
chapters  of  our  lives  come  to  their  natural 
end. 

I found  the  little  packages  on  the  kitchen 
table.  There  was  a quaint  West  Indian 
basket  which  I knew  its  owner  had  valued, 
and  which  I had  once  admired ; there  was 
an  affecting  provision  laid  beside  it  for  my 
seafaring  supper,  with  a neatly  tied  bunch 
of  southernwood  and  a twig  of  bay,  and  a 
little  old  leather  box  which  held  the  coral 


THE  BACKWARD  VIEW. 


211 


pin  that  Nathan  Todd  brought  home  to  give 
to  poor  Joanna. 

There  was  still  an  hour  to  wait,  and  I 
went  up  to  the  hill  just  above  the  school- 
house  and  sat  there  thinking  of  things,  and 
looking  off  to  sea,  and  watching  for  the  boat 
to  come  in  sight.  I could  see  Green  Island, 
small  and  darkly  wooded  at  that  distance ; 
below  me  were  the  houses  of  the  village  with 
their  apple-trees  and  bits  of  garden  ground. 
Presently,  as  I looked  at  the  pastures  beyond, 
I caught  a last  glimpse  of  Mrs.  Todd  her- 
self, walking  slowly  in  the  footpath  that  led 
along,  following  the  shore  toward  the  Port. 
At  such  a distance  one  can  feel  the  large, 
positive  qualities  that  control  a character. 
Close  at  hand,  Mrs.  Todd  seemed  able  and 
warm-hearted  and  quite  absorbed  in  her 
bustling  industries,  but  her  distant  figure 
looked  mateless  and  appealing,  with  some- 
thing about  it  that  was  strangely  self-pos- 
sessed and  mysterious.  Now  and  then  she 
stooped  to  pick  something,  — it  might  have 
been  her  favorite  pennyroyal,  — and  at  last 
I lost  sight  of  her  as  she  slowly  crossed  an 
open  space  on  one  of  the  higher  points  of 
land,  and  disappeared  again  behind  a dark 
clump  of  juniper  and  the  pointed  firs. 


212  COUNTRY  OF  THE  POINTED  FIRS. 

As  I came  away  on  the  little  coastwise 
steamer,  there  was  an  old  sea  running  which 
made  the  surf  leap  high  on  all  the  rocky 
shores.  I stood  on  deck,  looking  back,  and 
watched  the  busy  gulls  agree  and  turn,  and 
sway  together  down  the  long  slopes  of  air, 
then  separate  hastily  and  plunge  into  the 
waves.  The  tide  was  setting  in,  and  plenty 
of  small  fish  were  coming  with  it,  unconscious 
of  the  silver  flashing  of  the  great  birds  over- 
head and  the  quickness  of  their  fierce  beaks. 
The  sea  was  full  of  life  and  spirit,  the  tops  of 
the  waves  flew  back  as  if  they  were  winged 
like  the  gulls  themselves,  and  like  them  had 
the  freedom  of  the  wind.  Out  in  the  main 
channel  we  passed  a bent-shouldered  old  fish- 
erman bound  for  the  evening  round  among 
his  lobster  traps.  He  was  toiling  along  with 
short  oars,  and  the  dory  tossed  and  sank  and 
tossed  again  with  the  steamer’s  waves.  I 
saw  that  it  was  old  Elijah  Tilley,  and  though 
we  had  so  long  been  strangers  we  had  come 
to  be  warm  friends,  and  I wished  that 
he  had  waited  for  one  of  his  mates,  it  was 
such  hard  work  to  row  along  shore  through 
rough  seas  and  tend  the  traps  alone.  As  we 
passed  I waved  my  hand  and  tried  to  call 
to  him,  and  he  looked  up  and  answered  my 


THE  BACKWARD  VIEW . 213 

farewells  by  a solemn  nod.  The  little  town, 
with  the  tall  masts  of  its  disabled  schooners 
in  the  inner  bay,  stood  high  above  the  flat 
sea  for  a few  minutes,  then  it  sank  back  into 
the  uniformity  of  the  coast,  and  became  in- 
distinguishable from  the  other  towns  that 
looked  as  if  they  were  crumbled  on  the  f urzy- 
green  stoniness  of  the  shore. 

The  small  outer  islands  of  the  bay  were 
covered  among  the  ledges  with  turf  that 
looked  as  fresh  as  the  early  grass ; there  had 
been  some  days  of  rain  the  week  before,  and 
the  darker  green  of  the  sweet-fern  was  scat- 
tered on  all  the  pasture  heights.  It  looked 
like  the  beginning  of  summer  ashore,  though 
the  sheep,  round  and  warm  in  their  winter 
wool,  betrayed  the  season  of  the  year  as 
they  went  feeding  along  the  slopes  in  the 
low  afternoon  sunshine.  Presently  the  wind 
began  to  blow,  and  we  struck  out  seaward  to 
double  the  long  sheltering  headland  of  the 
cape,  and  when  I looked  back  again,  the 
islands  and  the  headland  had  run  together 
and  Dunnet  Landing  and  all  its  coasts  were 
lost  to  sight. 


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Oldtown  Folks.  i2mo,  $1.50. 

Sam  Lawson’s  Fireside  Stories.  Illustrated.  New 
Edition,  enlarged.  i2mo,  $1.50. 

The  above  eleven  i2mo  volumes,  in  box,  $ 16.00 . 

Frank  R.  Stockton. 

The  House  of  Martha.  i6mo,  $1.25. 

Eliza  Orne  White. 

Winterborough.  i6mo,  $1.25. 

When  Molly  was  Six.  Illustrated.  Square  i6mo,  $1.00. 
The  Coming  of  Theodora.  i6mo,  $1.25. 

Helen  Choate  Prince. 

The  Story  of  Christine  Rochefort.  i6mo,  $1.25. 

F.  J.  Stimson  (J.  S.  of  Dale). 

Pirate  Gold.  i6mo,  #1.25. 


